


A Match to Tinder III:Tides of War

by anesor



Series: Not Quite a Knave of Kirkwall [7]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: ... and a cast of several, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 90,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anesor/pseuds/anesor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of A Match to Tinder II in the Vimmark mountains prison, Hawke and Anders part from their friends to get away from Kirkwall again.  They seek the Warden and maybe even a friend of two, but events diplomatic and military don't like Old Home Week.</p><p>TALE is on hiatus because block has its say. But I do believe in happy endings after some action and angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Captain Isabela's Log, 11 Plutanis

**Author's Note:**

> The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. Some characters are my creations. I get no money for writing this sequel of both DAO and DA2.

**_The Waking Sea, aboard_ _t_ _he Sea Cockerels_ **

**_-I_ _sabela_ **

_Pluitanis the tenth... or maybe the eleventh. Balls, I really don't care that much right now._

_Caz tells me the mast repairs are done. The crew isn't happy we missed those fried Wintersend balls of dough in Val Chevine, all soaking in honey and sugar and cardamon that just ooze warm and squishy 'sin' enough to inspire a month of sermons._

_Especially if you eat them with passion in front of a Repressed Mother._

_Not even Orlesian ports will have them anymore._

_Jader and then Hercinia after that. The Eastern Sea will have more ships.  Overland is too risky of late and any hulk can make a profit if they stay out of trouble. Pickings are thinner because of convoys._

_I don't trust the hornheads, they sure hold a grudge without any evidence. I haven't even seen Imperial or Qunari ships last few ports. Castellan took their bloody thing to an Imperial port, but they hold a grudge for that slave shipment too. Pox on them all._

_I have my beauty and the open sea._

_Ports are another story, and they're awash with the wildest rumors. Portmasters are more excited about uprisings and invasion from the mages. As if they have ships, or the Templars, or maybe the dead elves from the top of Mount NoFun. They'd do better to worry about the Felicisima Armada or their neighbors Marching to feed their bonfires._

_I'm glad it's too hard for a March to go out to sea. It might be fun to see the ones in the heavy armor sinking into the mud waving their little arms, wondering why they can't walk on the water. How fast could they take off the armor and how good do they look under that armor, all dripping wet and desperate?_

_Hmm, that could be a good time for all._

_Still anyone smart enough to love the sea has seen more of what the Maker did than most anyone else in Thedas. Everything else is just having fun._

_Some people don't know how to have any fun._

_Well, now that raises the question of just how the Chantry blows and if it swallows. I'll ask Chantry boy if I see him again. Watching him turn red should be good for a laugh._

_Varric must be bored now. I've got a story he doesn't know: about the mighty Champion going the wrong way last year._

_Really, I'm not sure about the two of them. I would have expected Merrill to do something bloody before Anders. Hawke really has him by the balls even with that spirit, always did, despite that dance. I was almost beginning to think she didn't like sex much, and that would be a waste._

_Hmmm, that ship scene has potential. Enough for sailors at sea. I really should finish my friend-fiction sometime and get it to Varric, it'll be a lot of fun._


	2. Traveling Among Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After he parted from Hawke and the mages, Sebastian wants to travel home and see Thedas with his own eyes and consider his own future.

**Tevinter Highway, the Dalelands**

**Sebastian Vael:**

I crossed the southern coast of the Waking Sea at a leisurely speed after Satinalia, but it wasn't in a leisurely fashion. I refrained from announcing who I was, and few were interested in who I was on the road.

Leaving Ferelden was eye-opening as winter was much harsher than I was used to in the Marches. Orlais held the Dales and I'd been taught that the area near Jader had been hard fought by King Maric. Orlais still wanted the Jader port back. 

I hadn't paid much attention last autumn as I'd recruited for my mission of murder. Here on the ground below the bird's eye view an Olesian-printed map, the mountain gap of the Frostbacks was a more believable border than what had been on the map. Both sides would be able to control the approach.

Much like the Vimmarks helped keep Starkhaven safe.

The Fereldans kept a stronger military presence on their side, naming the garrison town Maric's Gate. Whatever the Orlesians called their side was lost in official paperwork and not yet on older maps. Crossing over, even the Orlesian soldiers called it the Gate.

Past the gate, human presence dropped away a bit. There were still merchants and their trains and their mansions in the towns that dotted any stretch of the old highway. Workers and even farmers were elven. Some merchants must have elven blood, even if there was little to see; they showed no more kindness for workers. 

As I passed more days along the road, there were fewer farms and I began to spot the occasional Dalish. Only Andraste knew what business they had along the road with winter so close, but one group that I saw in a distance had a herd of those halla with them. I wasn't sure how they kept the beasts so close together, but they stayed away from caravans more than a lone traveler.

I wasn't that close before some armed Dalish moved between the herd and myself. I had wished to watch them. The halla were as graceful as I'd heard, almost the essence of what deer should be: grace and wild nature of the Maker's creation. The horns were pale and elegant, and I almost wondered how they could exist. Such beauty needed no reason when the Maker blessed us with it.

They slowed and allowed me to pass them, despite watching me with arrogant disdain and weapons at ready.

A few more days along the highway and I started seeing more humans and their farms. Soon came patrols by guards and their Sers. Orlesian regulars started appearing again as I moved west. They were suspicious of me as a single walker and they asked me about troubles on the road. I could honestly report none. After all, I had recently left the company of the ones who started it. 

I needed to decide what I would do now that I had seen the Maker's vengeance. Maybe this return from an unexpected pilgrimage would give me the insight I so desperately needed.

When I entered Val Royeaux proper, I felt I didn't appear at my best. 

One Sister recognized me, and I was treated as a prince again. I was invited to banquets and entertainments in a frenzy of tense and brittle Orlesian lords and ladies competing for Celine's favor. They offered me masks in pearl and lapis lazuli that matched my eyes. 

It was entertaining to enjoy these shallow diversions without feeling much guilt that Starkhaven needed me or that I was betraying my oaths. That was over earlier than I wanted to admit, long before the Grand Cleric's death.

Starkhaven did not indulge in masks and games of one-upmanship to this extreme. We had much fewer frivolous nobles. They had responsibilities and a moral standard, even if they failed the Maker as the Harrimans did. Visiting Orlais was like visiting my younger self, caught up in frivolity and earthly amusements.

I did not wish to go back to that. I wanted to serve in Andraste's name, even if I was no longer a Brother.

One of Celine's Cupholders was appealing, and seemed satisfied with whatever reflected glory a wandering Prince of Starkhaven offered. I wasn't planning to become a prize token in their games, so after that encounter I stepped aside for respite into the Chantry study again.

As merely another member of the Divine's flock, I attended services. I had been privileged before when I escorted Elthina, but I didn't fit in as a humble brother either.

It was very difficult preserving a quiet demeanor as rebellion swelled in Celene's court and against the Divine's rule.

Winter passed as I studied the writings of the great Chantry Mothers and philosophies of rule. None had pried as I quietly studied and prayed within the Chantry's archives. 

One cloudy Tuesday, a terrible smell seeped into the archives and the faint roaring reached my ears. Knocking over my chair and reaching for my bow in my first reaction, I looked to an archivist. “What is that?”

He looked at me in surprise, as that was the first I'd spoken in many days. “Executions of maleficars, Brother. The Divine and Knight-Vigilant made them public examples after the events in Kirkwall.”

The smell of burning flesh wasn't completely new to me after battles I'd survived, but this was the center of Val Royeaux.

I rushed out of the age-old archive built by the Divine Theodosious and into the plaza. A line of pyres marched away along the side of the open space and away from me. Some were only smoldering piles of ash and charred lumber wreathed in smoke, the fire consuming clothing and flesh while the chains held the corpses in place. Further away were condemned who must still wait for the fire to catch.

Templars stood nearby on watch, fully armored.

Others weren't dead yet and jerked from the heat as the screams ended. The smell of smoke, oil, and burning flesh filled my senses and made me ill. Other viewers became ill or hysterical. That some were still children made me want to severely chastise their parents.

One of the condemned, through chance or deliberation was still conscious and able to speak as the wood under her was being put to the torch. “. _..Sweet Andraste, keep me and all who are near and dear to me safe from danger by fire and water, pestilence and all harm. I commend myself, body and soul and everything that I am to the Maker's protection. May you be with me, Andraste, that I may fear no..._ ”

I founght many blood mages and maleficar. This was not...

She coughed when smoke flared from the tinder and I was close enough to see that she was covered in bruises and a broken nose. 

“You are beasts, worse than the darkspawn! You kill innocent who did nothing...” A lick of flame got closer and the heat made her gasp and wail briefly. “Andraste help me! I... _through the pyre I sing to the Maker... a joyous song... free me from the pains of the flesh until I see you again._ ...mercy.

In those instants I could see that these weren't the denials of an unbeliever. Whatever mistakes she may have made, this was no abomination, no puppet of a demon. I had founght many abominations. The proof of her innocence was clear even as she died.

I drew my bow and gave her the only mercy I could, even as the flames were moving up.

A gasp from the crowd rippled out, interrupting the jeering I really heard noticed when it stopped. Those who had jostled me were edging away. Why became more clear when Templars clapped their hands on me

I shrugged them off. “I am Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven.”

A blow hammered into my head, knocking me off my feet. “I don't care if you're the queen of Antiva. If you help a maleficar, you and all you own are forfeit.”

I stood up. “I forget nothing. You were sworn to mercy. I have given that as Maltherath did. You are incapable of anything but proving what kind of _tiny_ prick you wield.”

That may not have been the wisest thing to say. They hauled me away and I was thrown into a cell, much worse for the wear. 

Once I had calmed, I regretted my rash words, but not the aim of my bow.

“I am surprised you ended up here with the rabble-rousers, Brother Sebastian. I understand you have been in study and contemplation for most of your visit to Val Royeaux.” The Templar stood tall outside my cell, and he looked at me with a disapproving expression, while another woman in formal Chantry robes stood quietly beside him.

My vision was a little blurry still. “Then you are correct, I came here to study and seek inspiration from the words of our predecessors.” 

“What prompted you to interfere? We will crush this rebellion. You were there when it started, when the Scourge slaughtered the Grand Cleric. These abominations seek to make a new Imperium.”

I moved to stand, to meet him eye to eye, but I could not get much above knee level. “I was there. But I remember Maltherath and his mercy for the Divine Andraste. As heinous as Kirkwall was, it was mercifully quick. Today was no abomination, no Magister, no faithless Qunari. She was the puppet of no demon. Judgment belongs to the Maker. Executions that pander to the dark side of the faithful are not what Andraste taught us. This is not singing the Maker's praise, this is not teaching Andraste's path. After judgment is not like some Tevinter blood game.”

The Templar had to be an officer. “Prince, I will arrange for your safe escort back _home_ to Starkhaven. I am sure with the current unrest, you have _many_ duties to occupy yourself with there.” This was a clear dismissal, his voice glacial and full of contempt.

With that he turned and left with the sister, leaving me inside the cell and still in shackled

The cell was not as bad as Darktown, but it wasn't comfortable. I heard vermin and other prisoners moaning and praying over that night.

I could not know how justified the arrests of any were. What I could be sure of was that granting a merciful death was not a sin. _How many others in here were like me instead of_ _sin or crime_ _?_

The Templar sent me back to Starkhaven by ship, but it was a bare fiction that I had any choice. I was kept in fine cabins but not able even to walk the decks unless I wanted to do so in the chains with Templars 'escorting' me. I _would not_ let my guards humble me like that so I stayed in the cabin and dreamed of escape at night. 

At least the fiction allowed that the shackles were removed for good as we neared the Starkhaven border. My Templar guard looked at me warily when the border guards passed me in, expecting me to order some kind or retribution, but that lesson was complete.

I would not punish Ser Jayne who had treated me with fairness and respect when we boarded. This journey had accomplished what study was suggested for me. This was not the Chantry that the Maker and Andraste would have been proud of. It did not focus on fighting the Imperium and our own sins, but fear of others.

The Qunari challenge our care for our people, the Tevinters challenge our strength and determination, and now mages challenge if we truly mean to build a world safe for all the Maker's children as Andraste demanded. After much contemplation I could see how it happened. Kirkwall was an example, how necessity excused gradually more horrible acts, until any disagreement was worthy of the worst penalties.

If every mage in Kirkwall had been killed, that would not have ended it, as the Maker continued to see fit to have more mages born. It must be ended another way.

But war between the Templars and mages would no more break the cycle than the back and forth had in Kirkwall. It was only the same conflict on a larger stage. I still didn't know what would, but it must include more than blood and death, but also compassion and mercy.

When the boat was about to cast off to continue up to the Starkhaven itself, I ordered the rest of my escort removed from the boat. Ser Jayne seemed surprised that I had not ordered her departure.

My smile felt wintery as I watched the dock drift away with the squad of Templars. “I do not hold you responsible for their mistake. I granted mercy in Val Royeaux. Elthina spoke to me often about the futility of vengeance, but I did not hear her. Vengeance is a demon, and perhaps the blackest. I accept that your reports will reconcile your superiors that I am not a... 'rabble-rouser.' I seek something other than vengeance and blood.”

She relaxed just a little. “Your association with the Champion makes you suspect, your Highness. Doubt were raised after the events in Kirkwall. There had been rumors that you were hiring assassins and mercenaries to send for Val Royeaux and the Knight Vigilant.”

“What?” My jaw dropped at hearing this unexpected rumor. “No! I admit I was hiring mercenaries and assassins, despite what the Grand Cleric would have wanted. They were hunting the Champion and Scourge. I could not afford them for long and some turned on me. I would _never_ send anything against the Divine!”

The Templar looked doubtful.

“I... failed. I ended up alone among Fereldans. One of them saved my life and we went on a pilgrimage to Andraste's Ashes.” I didn't want to speak further lies. 

“You saw the Ashes?” Now she was surprised.

Remembering the awe I felt after crossing that fire, I felt at peace again. “Yes. She was born in Denerim, so barbarians are Her people too.”

With the chains no longer a threat, I dropped them out the porthole and they splashed quietly into the waters of the Minanter. I rubbed my ankles and checked again at my wrists for infection. My equipment and possessions were returned, and I almost enjoyed the irony of using one of my last potions in front of the Templar who'd guarded me. 

The soreness faded and skin took on an unbronzed skin color. A few minutes more and the smaller scabs fell off. I flexed my fingers and checked my draw, concerned that these weeks of idleness would be a problem if I needed to fight. The string felt a little stiff, but I was able.

A cough came and I realized that the Templar Ser was still present and watching.

“How could you be sure it was Her Ashes? What did you see? Those rumors were all lies and fraud.”

I understood her wonder but it was hard to explain in a partial way. “Did you read the brief account Brother Genetivi wrote? It was correct to a point, the details of the inner shrine's challenges are a protection and a test of faith. There were threats from deluded fools who blocked access. Inside, a Guardian, somehow from the time of Andraste, would not let any pass if they would not face the tests. The tests came partly from ourselves and our experiences, so yours would not be the same as mine.”

“What were the tests? What happened to the other pilgrims?” She was so very earnest and almost seemed too young for her rank as Lieutenant. 

Judging ages for women who disdained fashion was no longer my strong suit and I shook my head. “Most of it tested wisdom and faith. The Guardian said we would not fail if we were worthy. I had to face my regrets, my dark side, and my fear of being unworthy of my family name... It was eye-opening.”

She didn't seem satisfied, but she must have realized that I _could not_ give more details. I would help her begin her search for enlightenment if she wanted, but I would not add much to the Brother's account.

Starkhaven looked peaceful as we docked. My watcher seemed a little awkward when she was given the guard chamber of the guest suite. She wasn't surprised that I had a sumptuous suite, but that her room was as large as it was. I decided not to mention that the chamber might often house as many as six guards if it was for a delegation from Antiva or an ambitious lord from Orlais. 

I believed I could trust her more than Seneto... he tried to kill me last year. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Part of the one prayer was adapted from the Little Treasure of Prayers. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	3. The Last Hawke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethany remains in the Vimmarks to lead a few other Wardens for clean up. But she wonders about her future and with the Wardens.

**Former** **Warden Prison, Vimmark Wilderness**

**\- Warden Bethany Hawke**

A Templar ship docked in Kirkwall andAveline's husband said it had Seekers.

Old panic came when I heard that. They'd hunted me for most of my life. I was afraid of being hauled away into Aeonar. Tales of the prison for mages in the northern mountains haunted my childhood. The bad Templars locked up apostates with bloodmages. Demons fed on the blood mages where there was no escape.

Father wanted to scare me, and Kirkwall was a lot like what he scared me with. The Gallows loomed over me, giving my worst nightmares in my life. We waited on that awful island for days before uncle Gamlen roused himself from his stupor.

My hands shook when Donnic warned us. A strong arm went around me, and the brightness of lyrium cheering me almost as much as Fenris' quiet support.

Aldera looked at me, and I realized that she'd aged. She's not the flippant big sister and thief who stole small things for me when I was little. She's the hidden knife who did so well under Athenril.

Anders began to collect their equipment as Sister looked around. It seemed so familiar, until I traced the memory back to trips with Mother and Father.

I didn't need to scramble, being protected in my uniform from the Templars.

Sister wore a uniform too as we worked in the ruins, a very old one. Her dark hair shorn short for the first time I could remember. This new Grey Warden didn't resemble my sister that much, much like Anders didn't resemble the mage I first met. They both had loose, brown hair, nearly the same color actually. Sister's hair showed a new curl.

I had just the same dark hair I'd ever had.

Three Wardens arrived with Donnic, strangers and newer to the order than I. They weren't as new as Aldera, but none of us really wanted to test conscription as the reason to let Aldera and Anders live.

“We got a message from a Guardsman that there was an old base here with darkspawn. Senior Warden?” The warrior asked Anders and looked at me, trying to guess who was senior.

Anders seemed surprised. I almost laughed at him.

“Heysal. I'm under orders and cannot finish cleanup here. It must be taken down to bare walls and scoured of everything man-made too. Be careful of the hot springs, the fumes are as dangerous as the extremely tainted and darkspawn that were trapped in there. It tainted everything in the place like broodmothers, leaving everything slimy and full of icky stuff...”

I interrupted. “We sent notice to Orzammar to see if we can borrow some dwarves who know about reclaiming sections of the Deep Roads. This is too close to the surface to leave unmanned until that's done.”

“Hawke,” Anders pitched his voice at me with more intensity and less affection.

I thought it felt strange for him to call me that. “What?”

“Don't forget you are to learn those potions from Avernus.”

That was _not_ a top priority for me right now. “Someone needs to stay here, for a while. I will be fine.”

Sister made a face and wanted to scold me. Now I had a trump card. “Brana, show them the remains of that dragon and the way to the entrance before you pack up for Senior-Warden Heysal's trip.”

I used a bored and dismissive Commander's voice. Warden-Commander Njáll used it on me in Ansburg for years. I _enjoyed_ rubbing it in.

Carver would have loved it.

Aldera's smile faded, because she had to suck it up. But she didn't say anything as she led them into the Carta section of the outerworks, past the ashes where we'd burnt the bodies under the open sky.

Anders threw me a glare. He asked Donnic about Darktown as he packed.

Fenris spoke into my ear. “You sounded a little like a Magister. Was that intentional?”

“Maker, no! I.. old disputes from years ago. Carver was able to stand up to her more.”

“I see.” His voice was non-committal.

Again I wondered if Fenris hadn't been more involved with Sister when I was gone.

At least Carver never had that worry.

Sister always got more respect and even boys following her around Lothering... just because she went out more. She was always busy playing Father's favorite assistant.

I was horribly embarrassed when Duggl started flirting with me after Father died. Even worse when he used Sister's name by accident as he clutched me close. When I boxed his ears, he got mad that none of us put out, which just wasn't fair. Then he insulted Carver and I nearly burnt him.

When I had my Joining, I got the chance to be free of both Father and Aldera's protection.

It wasn't that great.

Oh, I'd known more than I thought Sister could guess, but most Wardens used all their off duty time as an excuse to eat, drink, and bed as many partners as they could. Others like Howe were dedicated, but they still had goals outside their duty.

I wasn't either of those.

Anders finished packing and stepped over to me. “You need to meet with Avernus, before the end of the year. There's a small village and market forming below the peak. There's no real Warden base, unless you count the most senior Warden there is. Take care of this place first.”

It seemed ironic to have such a rebellious Warden ordering me, but I had no previous orders to claim and I didn't like lying.

When Sister returned with the newcomers, it wouldn't be very long until she and Anders left with Donnic tomorrow, like Varric and Aveline had before. That left me in command of these wardens and with a new weight of responsibility after hearing the whispers while Corypheus slept.

I didn't think there were any other darkspawn in the tunnels and tower yet. Finding where the tunnel hole was and closing it would require time and careful planning. None of these Wardens had the stone working skills, so Orzammar or maybe another base could lend them. Bansil was only slightly senior of the other two, and they were all in Kirkwall on supply runs. He, Selco, and Alvirr wanted to explore before they went inside.

Explaining what happened would make a wild tale, even without Varric's help. Sister and Anders disappeared while I told the other Wardens probably for another romp. I wanted to hide the shameful things Wardens had done, but that was pointless. Varric had already left with the story. He'd taken so many notes as we told Captain Aveline what happened. I doubted it would take that many weeks until his first tale appeared in Kirkwall and then traveled on the wings of gossip.

Hiding what happened would only encourage others to continue with dangerous and festering secrets, ones that nearly destroyed Kirkwall.

That made vigilance impossible.

Jeneka's private notes were plentiful evidence, and Selco had seen her writing before.

Bansil was uneasy when he finished reading and nodded at Fenris. “Why was this warrior still here? He is no Warden that he should have been present at a _Warden_ base.”

Fenris said nothing.

“We did not know this was a Warden base when I came. The Carta tried to kidnap me, and _**that**_ isn't Warden business. I asked friends like Varric and the Kirkwall Captain of the guard for help to find out why and stop it. Heysal and Brana offered to help.”

“We fought dragons and darkspawn before, so the guards would not have been enough, even before we faced the darkspawn.” Fenris finally spoke.

Not many were confident about facing darkspawn, and Alvirr showed suspicion that the others didn't. He took me aside. “Be done with it and conscript him if he is that capable, Ser.”

I hated how the Joining changed me and would not do that to _anyone._ “There is no need, he is not tainted and I will not take his freedom away from him like mine was.” I had always been trapped as a mage, apostate, and now Warden. Outsiders still saw the mage first and not a Grey Warden. Wardens like Janneka did not help either.

“Having that sword hang over him if he fights with you is not kind either. Will you feel any better if he dies in your arms from the taint? That his needless death is on your soul?”

I had to look away.

I had some of the precious mixes for a Joining even if I lacked the Cup. Anders drilled me on it while we worked and waited for more Wardens. I would do it, but I didn't want to enslave Fenris to a corrupted order because I was lonely there.

Fenris deserved the choice.

He deserved a future, away from the brotherhood of the dead.

I moved to one of the intact outer rooms that Fenris and I had chosen to make ours. Fenris followed me, with one of his quiet snorts when he shut the door and added wood to the old fire pit. I wasn't sure if he disliked what Alvirr said or my actions.

The wood wasn't that dry and I used a fire spell to make sure it kindled. Fenris looked over the papers I kept for my report to my Warden-Commander.

He remained silent when I slid onto the edge of the chair with him. His eyes squinted like he didn't like the details.

But the suspicious actions of these other Wardens weren't as shocking as they would have been even a few months ago. Sister was a killer, she was conscripted. Anders was an apostate running free before his Joining... and then caused far more destruction. Murderers were those conscripted most of the time.

There were no kind souls for long in the Wardens and I had been a Warden for years.

We'd gotten close here while we chased after Father's legacy, but I didn't know if Fenris wanted anything permanent. I knew that elves who became Wardens, Dalish or Alienage, didn't seem to want human lovers.

I wasn't about to leave the Wardens. I didn't have Anders' confidence or drive. I didn't want anything that badly. I couldn't see any good reason to Join if you hadn't gotten tainted. Sooner or later the taint kills us and I didn't want him to die.

Not that I wanted to die either, but there was no better choice for me.

“Do you want to eat before they return and eat the choicest hard tack?”

I looked over and saw a trace of a smile. “I don't think the Carta bought anything tasty.”

That topic flopped and died, but Fenris just tilted his head. “That is not what worries you.”

“I'm not sure if I want to go back to Ansburg. I cannot convince myself that my Warden-Commander is not complicit.” I didn't want say I wanted to sic Sister or Anders on him, but it would be entertaining to watch.

Fenris spoke. “May I come with you? Tradetown or Deep Roads.”

This was the nexus of my worry. “Are you sure you want to travel with a mage? A Grey Warden? An apostate who never faced a Harrowing and stayed out of the proper place for all mages?”

“You are not a Magister. You are clearly the best a mage can become, without the evil of the Magisters, and the foolish choices of the abomination or the bloodmage. You have the kind heart most mages lack.” Fenris was not angry.

I had to stand up again, reminded of what I learned here. “My father was a _blood mage_ and a good man. I'm proud of how he raised me and kept us safe. Can you accept that?”

“He was dangerous, and did not squander his freedom by failing to fight for you, for his family. How could I not respect that?” He stood and stepped closer to brush my cheek. “You are beautiful and good, inside and out. I would remain at your side.”

“I thought you wanted Sister first?”

He flushed. “Err, ah... yes. I admired.. admire her willingness to help others when it is right, with little care for profit or allegiances. But it was clear she favored the mage and _his_ _cause,_ and was not interested in anything.. more than friendship.”

With his usual gruffness, I had to smile at how flustered Fenris was at my question. I brushed his ear, a safer area to touch than most, despite its sensitivity. “I see how that worked out; you had such harsh words when we met.”

“No! I was foolish then.” Fenris hunched a little. “Hawke had rather biting words for me for hurting you when you left Danarius' mansion. The abom... Anders only glowered. It was clear to me that Kirkwall wasn't as free as it appeared at first. Danarius was still playing his games and threatening me even here.”

I remembered my disgust. “I know, slavers owned Grandfather's estate when we finished with Athenril. Destroying them was a pleasure.”

Fenris' smile lit up his face. “Isn't it? A mabari is a thousand times more noble than the Magisters and their procurers.”

I touched his chest plate carefully, hiding my smirk. “You do know how to flatter any true Fereldan. I think the bigger problem was their mutual attraction. I was talking to Varric while Anders kept a heavy silence in the Deep Roads.”

“He is dangerous to those around him because of his foolishness. I didn't like that extra risk to the Hawkes.”

I had to look away, remembering those echoes I faintly heard of Corypheus' thoughts. “I can't say I like that either. My sister was trapped with Anders long before her conscription. I thought it was sad when Anders' friend was made Tranquil. And after he helped Justice in Amaranthine... it was all so terribly romantic to me then.”

“An abomination was romantic to you?” His disbelief was almost breathless.

That made me sigh. “You don't see the Fade the way we do. I didn't have a Harrowing but Father told me about his. Anders won't talk about his. Father had to face a demon calling itself Vainglory, but he could only run and hide over and over for what seemed days... Until a spirit gave him advice on how to face down the demon.”

The elf's lips curled, but not enough to become cute. “He made a deal?”

“No. My father used _**no**_ blood magic in all the years he taught me, I don't think he could have hidden scars from curious children. The spirit called itself Industry, and admired Father's determination and _gave_ him hints as to how defeat the demon. Most spirits that appear in dreams don't... take on a whole virtue in a name.”

“Like Justice?”

Sometimes I was surprised at how little he knew about magic. “I've seen named spirits and demons in my dreams, but Justice is a very big ideal for a spirit to choose. Am I worried about the spirit or Anders' self control? It wasn't long until I began to worry about that spirit from the Fade. Fight enough demons and their puppets and you can't help worry about the one who was friendly with Sister when I left or what deal Merrill has made.

“Then I was young and silly, and I thought his breakdown in the Chantry was about romantic lost love. They were friendly but I hadn't quite realized they were closer friends until we were in the Deep Roads. I was frightened by everything down there. I was afraid to talk to him after my injury or have him treat me. I could heal _myself_.”

“I am sorry.” Fenris had already put an arm around me as I spoke and pulled me over to sit on the bunk we were using.

I was remembering my last days in Lothering. “We saw some who were tainted and going mad in Lothering, after Sister and Carver enlisted. We... I had to kill one and burn a shed to disguise how he died. When I was in the Deep Roads I knew what happened as the taint ate them. I didn't want to die. Magic couldn't heal me no matter how much I tried, in Lothering or the Deep Roads. Anders told us I had a chance, if I became a Warden. Later I came to know how often that chance fails.”

“You lived.”

“Then I wasn't quite sure why Anders was sad when he told us the Joining would let me live, maybe I thought that they'd just mourn over my body heaped with lilies.” I had to laugh now. “Being a Warden wasn't so romantic when I was being trained and put under their discipline.”

“You were already very disciplined with your magic.”

That reminded me of my Warden training under Stroud and the occasional visiting mage. I had cooked and sewn in Lothering, but I had not stood watch after a long day of fighting and been called 'Dog Princess' because I didn't know how to make privy pits and didn't participate in the feasting when off duty. My seniors did not appreciate my complaints or opinions even if I was already experienced against many enemies.

“The Wardens who trained me would not agree about my discipline. As a new Warden I got the distasteful chores on top of training. Some positively enjoyed making me sweat and strain. I racked up a lot of marks for attitude, but there was a _more_ efficient way to...”

Fenris laughed. “That must have gotten you more marks.”

“It did and for the longest time I would have preferred to have died in my Joining...” My breath froze. “You're not supposed to know that.”

“I was nearly sure. What they didn't say, spoke volumes.”

I fingered the griffin on my armor. “I didn't know then that it was a risk and was afraid just from what Anders didn't say. The Wardens put you to work almost immediately, to make sure you won't fold in battle. Sooner in Ferelden, since they didn't have enough at the start of the Blight and fewer after. Anders and Nathaniel were trained like that. I was mad at everyone because I was a Warden. I knew it wasn't fair, but I couldn't stop.”

I should have gone home on leave to see Mother, but I didn't want to see Sister.

“You survived the taint. You survived the Blight. Survival comes first.”

My bile rose, but I fought it down. “I didn't survive. I'm still dying, still marking time until I go to the Maker. I was afraid to die and afraid to become a Warden and lose my family and wanted Aldera to decide. Didn't know I was deciding that I would never have a family too.” I'd decided he might as well know, I didn't care today. “I wanted children and a garden just like Mother. I saw other girls in Lothering meet someone and get pregnant. I was so careful when I touched their bellies, I could feel the babe already in the shallows of the Fade, happy or irritated even if they didn't know what was coming in a few weeks.”

My hands clenched into fists. “I _wanted_ that feeling. Because of _**me**_ , we moved over and over when I was little. We were all alone. Mother barely admitted she had family until we fled the Blight. By then, we'd lost Father and Carver. I almost never went away from home without Sister or Carver in Lothering. When we explored the mansion Mother grew up in, I wanted to raise a family there... I could have reconciled myself if I was the aunt.”

Remembering my first visit to Lowtown after my training, bitterness overwhelmed me. “Now I can't have any of that. No children... When I saw Sister during the Qun attack outside Uncle's home, it was very clear to me that she and Anders weren't just friends. He blocked any chance of me having a niece.”

A look of surprise flickered across his face and he chafed my arms. “Is that why you have been careful not to mention Joining to me, you want a chance we might have a child?”

I could feel the flush of embarrassment on my face. “Yes... no. It's more than that. Few Wardens have ever had a child, right after their Joining, and it's only legend if both are Wardens. I'm past that time. Outside Ferelden, there are few female Grey Wardens. A Warden gives up things large and small, and raising a family is at the top of that list. I don't want anyone to face that too.”

“Not that you're ashamed of me that I am an elf, was once a slave, or that I'm not a Grey Warden?”

That made me look up and into his verdant eyes. I was surprised at how quiet and heavy his voice was.

I traced down his lower arm, feeling the tingle of the lyrium hidden under his leather. “ _ **N**_ _ **o**_ _ **.**_ You would do very well if you survived your Joining. I hate that Sister had to Join because of what Anders did. And that she didn't find someone like you that she _could_ have had a family with.”

“That does require that she be interested.” His voice was dry.

“I was interested, why wouldn't she be? Those eyes and that voice... she's an idiot. Some luck _finally_ came _my_ way.” I had had few 'gentleman friends,' as Mother liked to call the boys who followed Sister. It was too risky when we never knew who might betray Father and me.

It was a lonely way to grow up.

“You, Beth, just like me for my big sword.” Fenris' breath warmed my ear before his lips grazed my cheek.

Better was how he felt against me, warm and strong as he leaned against me and made me feel safe. “You caught me. You'd better sheathe that before we go to sleep.” I had learned not to play any restraints, he got too intense.

His chuckle echoed through me as we raced to remove leather and silverite mail as quickly as we could. Our weapons were still within reach, but my Warden armor made a chinging sound as it hit the floor.

His skin glowed slightly and I had to keep a portion of concentration to resist drawing on his lyrium. Nothing stopped our pleasures as quickly as the wrong magic so close to his markings. I was getting better, though.

As soon as we curled against each other to rest, Fenris took a deep breath and his glow dimmed a little. His fingers slid over my stomach and stopped. “I never thought much about children, any more than I thought about going to the Dales. That kind of opportunity was common when I was in the Imperium, though many slaves might be bred, not always from their own willingness. I only remember a few snatches from before my... memory was lost.”

I carefully slid my arms around him and put my cheek on his chest, the light reflecting off my skin. “You are yourself, do you really want to remember all that was lost? Wouldn't it have to have been bad to convince you to agree?”

“I still feel incomplete, like there are pieces of me stolen away by Danarius. I have remembered a few things, but it's so little.” His wiry body got tense and stiff as he spoke.

“Maybe I can see if I can learn something from Warden archives. We have the oddest bits of knowledge in our outposts.” I took a breath, because I had two other ideas I thought he might not like. “We night be able to contact the few Wardens in Tevinter. Relations are not very friendly, but they might help. Would you consider asking Anders?”

“Him?” Fenris didn't need to spit to show his distrust.

That made me smile. “He's had much more training than me, as much as I hate to admit it. Worst that happens is that he doesn't know anything. Aldera's my sister. That's what family is, you're stuck with them even if you're angry at them. ”

Fenris snorted but didn't say anything else.

No one wanted to tell me the details about what happened with his sister, only that she was an apprentice mage and betrayed him in favor of a Magister. She was a terrible sister.

Aldera never betrayed me, I felt safer entering the Deep Roads with her than staying in Kirkwall. The Maker let me survive the Deep Roads.

Even so, Mother wanted _one of us_ to settle and have a family. With three children she shouldn't expect that to have been so impossible. “Mother wanted Sister to marry, to have had a family. The Amell name... regaining what was lost by Uncle. Explorer of the Deep Roads and noble in Hightown Champion! _Andraste, she was friends with a prince._ Why couldn't she settle down like Mother wanted and have a family? She had _everything_ we wanted when we got here, why would she throw it away?”

He struggled to sit up and look me in the eyes. “You think she should have had a consort, maybe a whore from the Rose? Or just use someone so she could have a baby? That's what it would have been if she loved someone else.”

“No, that's not what I meant.”

“Didn't your mother defy her family to marry who she wanted, even if it was a mage? Didn't your grandparents want her to marry from Hightown? Would she have defied them if it had been only a merchant or an _elf_?”

I glared at him. “That's different. Father escaped, he was just a mage.”

“A blood mage, binding demons to his will so they could escape. His blood was what held Corypheus for another generation. Your mother and sister chose to live dangerously.”

“Mother despaired that Aldera didn't want to settle down and raise a family. I don't think Mother ever knew about Justice or why Sister didn't even seem to talk about marriage. Father might have understood better after redoing those bindings. They seem to be happy, and that, Mother and Father would have liked.”

Fenris shook his head. “Hawke is Champion even if Kirkwall has passed. I don't know if she and her abomination will force their change or they will be symbols of that change. They will remake their better world or end in martyrdom... My plans are more modest. A jug of wine, a lovely woman, and the right to be free. Could I have those?”

I had a duty, but this wasn't his real question and I rubbed my cheek against his. “We're a little short on wine, but... my hopes are modest too.” Then I kissed him.

Later the other Wardens clattered in the outer room, but thank the Maker, they did not come in to socialize. We were settled in a nest of blankets and bedroll and pushed away clothing, and I traced down his chest keeping a tight rein on my magic. “You do realize that this means that Anders would be almost your brother now? They might as well be married.”

He stiffened for and instant. “I... had not considered that. To have family is unexpected. My sister listened to the siren call of Magister power and I resigned myself to being without kin even if she lived.”

I didn't think he was done.

Fenris rubbed his brow as if he had a headache. “My brother is an abomination.”

“The headache goes away, sooner or later.” I carefully used the lightest of healing magic. “I don't doubt Anders loves her, but between Justice and the taint he has a double share of problems compared to other apostates. Still, I wonder if Justice is fond of Sister a little, too.”

“That is disturbing in a _new_ way. I'd rather make plans with _you_ , Beth.”

“Anders is senior to me, despite that playacting we did earlier. Unless there is a clear and immediate reason to ignore them, I should follow his orders.”

“ _His_ orders?” Fenris sounded a little horrified. His face showed the same kind of disgust as a wet cat.

“Being crazy isn't enough of a reason to disobey if they're _good_ enough at killing Darkspawn. Skill trumps seniority. I suspect he's the best Warden-Mage there is now, because I haven't met another who was as effective at balancing healing and heavy attacks. I was never taught that blizzard spell he uses, but he said he learned it from a senior enchanter who fought the Archdemon. He could have become a First Enchanter eventually in Kinloch if he'd wanted. Wardens are all about 'in war, victory, in peace, vigilance, in death, sacrifice.' He still follows that.”

That flash of a smile made Fenris look more satisfied. “You are senior to Hawke, though.”

I had to laugh at that for a long moment. “Do you really think that makes a difference? With her combat skill? You said it earlier, Sister and Anders stride across the history of the fifth Blight and Kirkwall. Stroud made _sure_ I toed the line. Sister was given free reign by the rogue Cousland as if that was how it should be. They will remain like that until their... Callings. No. it's much quieter in the Deep Roads than around them.”

“Not too quiet, cattle live quietly and destroying darkspawn is nearly as satisfying as Magisters and their works.” His grin was predatory.

“We may not have either for a while. Anders ordered that I meet a very senior Warden, who has mastered his taint without becoming like Larius. I thought they were coming with me.” I knew how chancy life as a Warden could be, aside from how many hunted them.

Fenris leaned close against me. “I'm sure we will see them again. I can't see Hawke seeking places like Orlais or Nevarra or Antiva. And if... Anders remains as attached to her, they may outlast the war he started.”

“A Tevinter general took an Antivan city but another is now pacifying it. No one seems to know where the general was assigned. Maybe he will attack Pol Vallen next or some other weak point. The war is not just what Anders started.”

“It should have stopped with Kirkwall because the true character of that city is cursed. And that corruption was from Corypheus.” The curl of his lip was clear as Fenris spoke.

I couldn't quite worry about war on the surface as I should. “Wars up on the surface seems so far away when I'm in the Deep Roads, aside from worrying about Sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some lines are adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	4. Taking Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke is not totally upset to be called away from darkspawn clean-up in the old prison...

**V** **immark Mountains, Warden Prison**

**-** **Ald** **era Hawke**

These ruins didn't feel any less foreboding and evil... yet.

Even after staying in the old ruins for weeks, there was still so much to destroy; Void take the asses. Like some grenade left behind by Tevinter and Wardens in supreme idiocy, waiting for ages to blow up in our faces, this place had to be cleaned out. Bethany and Anders, with advice from Fenris, hunted for what to destroy. Paws and I used surviving brontos to move those things to slag, though all five of us, six including Paws, were sore at the end of each day.

Aveline and Donnic returned to Kirkwall shortly after we emerged. They left rations that were a little more palatable than what the Carta left, even if they underestimated how much three Wardens ate. Aveline came, or sent Donnic, with some more food every few days.

Too much ancient sludge was left behind when the Wardens took the place from Corypheus and locked him up like seed grain. Unlike them, I didn't care how Magisters raised the power to enter the Fade. I didn't care what they thought it would accomplish. All it brought was death and madness and corruption in its wake, and Kirkwall in particular was drowning in it.

The first thing we did after the battle was burn the bodies of the Magister and all the dead Wardens. Then we did the same for Carta, sometimes saying a few words over the pyres. Burning the other old debris took longer. Varric and I used surviving brontos and carts to move shit around while the others argued about how much to destroy.

We didn't let Varric or Fenris, as non-Wardens, touch any tainted remains. I know I watched for any taint for them with worry. Both were pronounced clean soon enough. Then it was weeks of work. We found more records of generations of Wardens and hired mages like our father but nothing significant was found.

Not even a few days after Aveline left, Anders and Bethany decided how to dismantle and destroy those Fade-linked things. Those urns had some of that mist, ever pouring out of them, and those were disturbing to me. Our mages were very pale as they tried to suppress the remaining magics.

I stepped beside Anders and gripped his arm firmly again, like had been so terribly necessary for a few days. “How are you doing, honey?”

His face lit up. “I like that, love, you had a little purr as you spoke.”

I looked for Ser Mew, and didn't hide my eyeroll.

A calloused thumb tickled my palm. “I'm fine, love. His voice is gone and Justice is nearly in embarrassed hibernation. The Fade is very, very thin here. I don't know what these things are doing, but I'm sure shutting them down is a good idea.”

Varric scraped his boot. “Now that brings up another bit of news. You Wardens don't really need me for this and I have some business to get back to.”

Anders snorted and I had to laugh. “Now really, Varric, are you trying to catch the new rye crop, or hoping to get a new book written in time for Funalis?”

He rubbed the side of his nose like when we were mocking one of Anders' obvious fibs. “I'll never tell, Hawke. You have a couple of months before my next one reaches the shops.”

“Why couldn't you have it at some Proving in a lost thaig?” Anders asked, grumbling.

“I want some details for the lost thaig of Fannor clan before I write that one.” Varric grinned. “I'm glad we all got out of this one sane. Stop in for a drink before you move on, won't you, Hawke? I got something for you.”

I pretended annoyance, but I missed his company more than most things about Kirkwall. “We can't carry all your books with us for bedtime reading.”

“No, I pocketed something you might find useful, but I'll tell that story another day. Goodbye Sunshine, Broody, Blondie, Hawke... and Messer Glowy wherever you are.” Varric started walking away

“ _ **I am not Glowy.”**_

I tried to hush Justice, but I suspected _that_ joke would never get old.

With Varric gone, this got a lot less fun. I didn't begrudge him leaving, he had his own business and I didn't think he ever worked as a farmhand or in construction. We burned, and broke, and melted, and scattered. Decorative bits that Fenris thought were Magister insanity had priority. I wanted to leave this place as close to bare rock as we could manage.

One day my hair got drenched by some of the glowing water. Between the smell and the stain, I wanted it off my head. “Anders, take it off.”

“Love?” He looked unhappy.

“I'm tired of the gunk and ichor, and we have so much more to clean up.”

Anders' dismay was almost comic. “I shouldn't have made that joke. I'm sorry, love.”

I made a face. “Don't be silly, I like your jokes. Glowing hair will be much funnier when it won't happen again.”

“I love your longer hair. Dera.” His fingers almost touched the offending hair, but he couldn't run his fingers through it, as clumpy as it was. He frowned too.

“It'll grow back, unless there's a spell to hurry that.”

He shook his head. It didn't take that long for him to carefully cut my hair down to stubble.

His face was flat as he looked at me.

My head was cold and I started to pull my hood back up, thinking of nothing.

Suddenly Anders pulled me against him, his fingers against my skull as his lips took mine.

“Doesn't matter, love, not at all...” he said against my bare skull, his breath warm. At first it was just his lips, but a lick came and then stopped. “Must get that stuff washed off, but your skull is lovely too.”

Some days later my head had a fine fuzz when Donnic arrived at noon; this was his third rations run midway through Justinian. As welcome as fresh food was, he brought three Wardens who had been in Kirkwall. I would have preferred Wardens we already knew, but they plainly came from other bases and didn't recognize either of us.

Anders pushed the arriving Wardens off on Bethany while we started packing to leave. I didn't really want to chat with then, but wanted to get to Kirkwall and out on the first Warden-friendly ship for points south in the morning.

Once these Wardens were examining the bones of that dragon, Bethany and Fenris went into their room and didn't come out as we made a hot meal with the fresh supplies.

I wanted my sister to be happy. And I wanted Fenris to be happy. I wasn't as sure they could be happy together.

But I would resist saying anything about that. The boys she dreamed about in Lothering would not be able to deal with the lives we found. Enough people warned me about Anders. I wasn't about to do the same to Bethany.

We were eating our early dinner with Donnic, when Paws whined a warning.

Aveline rounded a rock a little after I realized we had more Wardens. This time Sigrun led a couple of other dwarven Wardens. A half dozen Wardens should be able to make this place as safe as I'd prefer.

Aveline and Donnic shared a restrained embrace.

The two new dwarves looked a little nervous and kept their helmets on to shield their eyes. I could see that these helms gave them a smaller field of view too. Sigrun was keeping a closer look at them than I thought they realized while Bansil introdiced himself, Alvirr, and Selco.

Sigrun came over to where Anders and I sat with our meals. “Another leaking hole in the Fade, Sparklefingers? Didn't anyone tell you how to patch a bucket?”

Anders crossed his arms and forced a smile. “Try patching a net with a torch. I don't know if the water can be cleansed somehow. Maybe put in a tavern or a stage. A whorehouse is much more useful than a prison for darkspawn.”

Sigrun grinned back. “ _You're_ the expert at that, mage. I think I'd like a more detailed story than that message sent by pigeon.”

“Don't take long, Anders,” Donnic interrupted in a hurry, his voice cracking a little. “A Templar ship docked at the Gallows, a troop ship.”

Aveline crossed her arms and put on her cross 'Captain' voice. “We return tonight, Guardsman. You _should_ leave too, Hawke.”

I'd nodded at Aveline's order.

The human Wardens' expressions changed as they realized who we were. Sigrun was a Commander the dwarven Wardens weren't reacting to us..

Bansil glared at us when he realized. “ _You're_ the Scourge? You're not in Tevinter or Pol Valen or Orlais? Wardens are not supposed to get involved in politics and petty wars! He... You! You will bring down a March against the Grey Wardens. You can't use our lives to save your sorry hides! I heard _**he**_ was a Warden, but not you...”

“I was conscripted after Kirkwall and drank that damn cup, too. How many Wardens are thieves and murderers, again? I'm very, very good at killing darkspawn. If you think I'm doing this to hide behind your shields like some nobleman, we can have a duel right now.” I really would have preferred staying Brana a bit longer, as it was tiring to be Hawke.

One of the nearly hooded dwarves laughed, his chest heaving. “You do that, human. They won a Proving, and grand one it was. I'll wait over here until the nug can't squeal anymore.”

Anders was annoyed. “That's why the Wardens Heysal and Brana are under orders. Since we killed the ancient and tainted Magister that was held here, we _must_ move on so we don't cause that March you're afraid of. I have always fought darkspawn, and so has Hawke even before her Joining.”

Arkun, the ax warrior dwarf, stopped laughing. “If the politics up here on the surface aren't that important to you surfacers, then why do you care what he does when not in the Deep Roads? Look at me, I was Carta in Orzammar until I found a deshyr to stand as sponsor in Provings so I wouldn't be stuck in Dust Town for a very short life. They must be good at Wardening to call us for cleanup of a spawn nest.”

The female dwarf, Walda, spoke quietly. “We don't have enough to do a full tainted thaig clean-out. But I know the principles and the weather will help with the rest.”

“How do we know they won't make us into abominations?” Selco looked more wary than the dwarves.

“We can't do that, any more than Wardens drink baby blood and use ogres to plow a field.” I was tired of this, and it probably wasn't going to stop for the rest of my life.

Anders told Sigrun a very concise version of what happened.

Aveline looked at the light. “We have enough light to cover the worst terrain before full dark.”

We left in only a few more minutes after some quick goodbyes with Sigrun, and Donnic led the way. He knew the pathway well now. It was narrow and we had to scramble single file, but still we had some time until we were too close to Kirkwall to talk.

“Anders, do you want to risk a short visit?”

“Probably, love. People don't care nearly as much as the Chantry thinks.” He panted a little, as Donnic kept us moving fast.

I wanted to glare at him, but it wouldn't have much effect while we watched our footing on the washed out trail.

“Brana, we're just two Grey Wardens, back from a mission. Anyone seeing us will expect to see us passing through or looking for a brothel.”

“Why would I want that, I have you?” I wasn't sure if I hid my smile from my voice,

His chuckle was short as he scrambled up a wash behind me. “Why, yes, you do. And I'll have you know I am quite skilled and can satisfy the Ser's every pleasure...”

Donnic snorted in front of us when Ander's seductive voice floated up to him. I turned back enough to glare at Anders.

“Ser!” Anders continued with a cheeky grin, “I have been rated as a top draw at the Pearl, able to charge the highest rates during that tenure. Never did I have any customer leave without a smile on their faces no matter how out of sorts when they arrived.”

The smile I loved, but I turned ahead to jump over a narrow waterbed and didn't look back.

After a minute of two he caught up to me and pulled me to a stop. “Love?”

My eyes were wet and I was biting my lip to prevent saying something stupid. All I could do was shake my head.

His face fell and he put his arms around me. “We _will_ talk about this as soon as we can, Dera.”

I wiped my eyes and nodded. The rest of the trip was quiet.

When we reached the old sally gate, we slipped in with Paws sniffing the air. I didn't see any disruptions nor hear any excitement. Aveline was pleased, despite the late hour and darkness when we returned.

I gave a last tiny wave to Donnic and a quick hug for Aveline before moving off towards one of the Lowtown markets. There we bought something to eat, as the most consistent thing at the Hanged Man was the terrible food.

Entering, I marched like some of the Wardens with Janneka, as if I was better. Anders glided more than his usual spring. That ended up making me feel nauseous.

Still no one seemed to react at all and we reached Varric's room without even being slowed down.

His suite had a couple of merchants talking to him. Varric put his feet down as we first entered, but then annoyance changed to a grin. “Now that's better, Warden...”

“Brana,” I said pointing my thumb at myself, and then at Anders. “Heysal. We're here to confirm some rumors tracking back to you.”

“Anything to help Grey Wardens on duty. Filo, that shipment should go with a good caravan, find a way. Kloss, get me those proofs in three days.” Varric hustled them out of his suite and shut the door.

“We can't stay for that drink, we're late for a mission.”

Varric nodded. “You heard about that ship. It may not be too bad, but I expect a returning visitor any time, myself. I got this ring as an unexpected gift from the Seeker, and think you will appreciate the gem...” His grin nearly split his face.

The ring was a fine, old Nevarran signet, suitable for forgery; certainly it should vouch for us in some situation.

I grinned back. “That should fetch good silver, thanks.” I hugged him, as we didn't stay long enough to speak more.

Warden Brana had orders to train at the Vigil, and our contacts helped vet a ship leaving port for Highever. Those were our public orders, but we still had to decide where to go after that. We were leaving Kirkwall with much less excitement than last time.

The distance across the Waking Sea wasn't that far, because so many sailors claimed you could see both coasts from a crow's nest on a clear day. This ship was a fishing vessel, that sold at both ports, had family in both ports, and was very sure it'd rather outrun trouble than see any.

As Wardens, we were slightly better than death and taxes. Respected but not loved. This was like and unlike what being the Champion was. I got respect, but people always _wanted_ something from the Champion. People wanted the Wardens and the immanent darkspawn attacks far away from them. Quickly sending us away to kill darkspawn made them much happier.

So we were given the Captain's cabin and privacy. A scullion, or whatever they were called at sea, brought us a meal. Travel as a Warden was so much better than the crowded and frightened hold when we fled the Blight, and the stinky hold when we fled Kirkwall. We had possibly the only cabin, which had small portholes for light and air. Ser Mew was welcomed more than Paws, but it should be a few days at worst.

Anders bounced on the bunk after the Captain's things had been hurriedly removed. “A bed with real sheets and blankets and not ancient and about to collapse, how quaint. How do we use this again?”

His eyes were wide with feigned innocence.

I had no reason to buy that playacting. We had a small room in the Carta area for weeks, with only my sister and Fenris nearby. “We could sleep, I'm tired after dealing with all those bones. Where are going to go next?”

Holding his hand up to beckon me closer, he pulled me to sit in his lap. “That too, but we've been far too _celibate_ with Bethany and Fenris nearby. We weren't as limited when we lived in Hightown...”

I stopped the cross words that immediately came to my lips about our leaving. I had vowed that I wanted us living there until the the day we died.

And yes, on some days I missed the little things of living in Hightown. A hot meal of fresh food was available no matter what time we dragged ourselves in or how bloody we were. We could collect books or interesting carvings for amusement or research. And probably the most important was that we had privacy, not that I had a snoring uncle Gamlen like before the Deep Roads. Mother died not long after Anders moved in.

We were so busy then with the looming problems with Patrice and the Arishok, that we didn't have that many opportunities for awkward meetings with her. Then it was just us two in the family rooms, and it was so quiet when Anders was out or working on his Manifesto.

For years.

I didn't realize how much I missed that until we were living cheek and jowl with other people almost constantly. First Merrill, then Sebastian, but after a few months in that tiny village it was into a Warden outpost and soon bunking with my prickly sister and pricklier Fenris. Worse was that worry that Varric would include more personal details in his stories.

On this ship we were just a pair of Wardens. We could relax... well, I could relax. Anders didn't care about privacy that much.

With my long silence he got tense as well. “Love?”

I took a deep breath and answered as calmly and I could. “We don't live like that anymore.” I didn't really blame him, but it was still over.

“When are you going to let it go? Just because we aren't in your grandfather's mansion anymore doesn't mean our lives are over. We can still cherish what we do have.” Anders cupped my cheek, even if there was a snap in his eyes.

I shook my head and his warm palm dropped away. “That isn't it. I just don't like an audience or not having watch on the road. We're wanderers now, and chances like this are always going to be rare.”

“You're wrong, Hawke. I was fugitive many times before this, and I _never_ got caught because I was enjoying some time in the hay.”

I was no less experienced in avoiding Templars. “You traveled alone, that makes it easier and safer. How long was your longest time free before your Joining again?”

He was getting angry, too. “I am not the foolish young mage anymore who barely knew how to cast a fire spell. I've been a Warden for years and faced everything but an archdemon now. _**We've**_ faced Meredith and dragons and Corypheus. Justice can watch later, he doesn't sleep. No small group is much of a threat to us, Hawke....”

That struck my fears. “We had Merrill's help, or Sebastian's, Fenris' or Bethany's... we were never just _us_ when there was a serious problem. We've had a lot of help through the years for all I was named Champion. Those mercenaries were _too many_ last time we were here. I failed and couldn't keep them away. Too little, too late, and wrong choices too many times. It's just too many deaths like Carver, Saemus, Mother, and all those others. I can't, I'm not enough.”

_'...To keep you safe' I didn't say out loud._

Anders lifted my face up to him, his eyes wet too. His mouth moved but no words came out. “Dera... I.”

My chest hurt so much and I took in what felt like the first air in several minutes as I looked at Anders' eyes and face, hoping he had some answer.

His breathing had gotten rougher, too, and he usually kissed me when I got this upset, but this time he pulled me into a tight embrace, more desperate than romance.

I had trouble breathing. Anders held me almost with crushing force, but I felt so lost that I didn't care.

When I finally realized I was shaking less, not having realized that I was shaking at all, Anders' murmuring was a comfort.

I wished I knew what he said.

Anders must have realized I had recovered in some way, because he said, “Dera, I adored you on Varric's expedition. You never let me down. I wouldn't be alive or sane without you...”

That was worse and I scrambled off his lap with a sob.

“Hawke!” His shout made me freeze.

But it didn't help with the new pain. “I don't want your _gratitude!_ ”

He gripped my arms, pushing me against the bulkhead, a flare of magic rippling through us. “Gratitude? _That's the least of why I can't live without you._ Hawke, if you had sent me away after the Chantry, I might as well have had Fenris rip my heart out. I would have haunted you if I never taken the chance, eating my heart out with every lover, every liaison, no matter what I said. I could not have left you, the tides would keep washing me back to you.”

His hands crushing as they slid down to my hands. “Marry me, Hawke. I don't know how or where we can do it, but I want you to believe. Believe even when we get separated or, Maker forbid, when one of us dies, that this, this as permanent as anything can be away from the Maker's side.”

My jaw dropped and my thoughts froze. I had pretty much given up all daydreams years ago, between Justice and everything.

His smile was a little watery, but he let go of my hands and kissed me until I was dizzy. He traced the tattoo on my cheek and said, “I think we're doing this a little backward. You're supposed to give me your answer first, aren't you? That is what those pulpy books suggest. Then we kiss.”

I thought my heart would float away on a cloud and I ran my fingers up along the seam on his sleeve. “We can kiss after I say 'yes,' too.”

He whooped and kissed me again. Or I kissed him, because it really didn't matter.

Soon we were curled up together, with me tucked inside his embrace. “Love? We only have a short time here. I doubt you meant to talk about your worry about my care or being a Champion. What subject went so awry?”

My skin got warm with embarrassment, especially with how loud our fight and conclusion had been. “I don't like an audience, especially for when we are intimate.” I had to frown. “Even more if it's my sister... or Varric. Him, I'm half afraid he's going to put details in to liven up the story.”

His skin got warmer. “It's a little late for that, he has in two of them already. At least some details are rubbish, any mage would know it's wrong.”

I reached up to grip my forehead in frustration. “And how many mages frequent Orzammar and places like Lowtown to tell what's wrong? Can I just crawl into a hole and never come out?”

Laying his face alongside mine, Anders pointed out, “You can do that, you're a Warden. But you look better in sunlight.” He paused a moment and added. “We are not _ever_ having separate bedrolls when we're married.”

That was my biggest question right now. “What made you think of it? I mean now. We've been living together for years and it never seemed to occur to you. With all that happened from Vengeance and Justice not wanting you to visit me, I knew he'd block it. So I never said anything.”

Justice manifested and sat up, the static feeling a little like rough burlap. “ _**Kristof was married. I have no objection to that.”** _

I wanted to laugh, but his reactions were rarely predictable. “So you didn't like that we were 'living in sin?” That was it? We could have skipped all those awkward evenings in the library just by getting married?”

Justice frowned. _**“That would have reduced my objections, even with the demon's influence. Marriage is a just relationship with legal and traditional duties and** _ _**privileges.** _ _**Justice governs relations with othe** _ _**r** _ _**people.** _ _**The mage never pursued any just relationships at the Vigil, only shallow ones.** _ _**”** _

Biting my lip was not completely preventing the humor in what he was saying, or what I thought Anders was thinking. “Justice, people need to pass through those shallow pools before they marry. Even arranged marriages have that with family and the early stages. Remember Aveline and the marigolds and starts she did with Donnic?”

“ _ **I thought that was unusual. Nothing in the mage's memory has events like those signal fires.”**_

“Aveline's was unusual, but that kind of planning, panic, and desperately wanting to make a good impression happens for just about everyone. Anders couldn't know about marriage, but Aveline's was just fine.” It sank in that they were both blind.

Justice faded away and Anders cuddled close, with quiet giggles shaking his chest. “Thank you for not laughing at him, love. Andraste's knickers, I could have asked you after the Deep Roads? Well, before Leandra passed at least.”

Mother would have liked that. I thought she could have accepted childlessness too.

“There was another thing that helped.” Anders pulled a little on my earring with his teeth. “Fenris wondered if we had married in the elven style in Tevinter. Often they don't have much chance to marry either, and trading earrings in other lands is probably a holdover of that custom.”

“I will have to thank him, next time I see him.” I smiled. Tomorrow we'd have to start trying to find a way,

“Just to make sure, that was a 'yes' to the question?” Anders' voice was hesitant.

I wasn't sure if that was a serious question. “Yes, that is a yes. Are you angling for more kisses out of one question?”

His lips trailing along my cheek to my lips, Anders then said, “Well, if Fenris is right, we've been married since Harvestmere. I am way behind for matrimonial kisses.”

Another bell rang for watch change or some of the seafaring custom. But we still needed to resolve where to go. Anders was dozing, with my chest as a pillow, so I spoke quietly, not really wanting him to wake if he was asleep. “Honey, where do you want to go after we make port?”

He looked right and left and grinned before sobering. “I'm happy here. But... we have several places to visit, some I've been putting off for too long.”

“Will they all fit in the six months that Cousland gave us?”

He sat up and pulled me to lay my head across his lap. “I wish I had some grapes to peel for you, love. But no, they all won't, and I'm sure trouble will find us before the end of that time. I should write a report for Cousland, but I don't really trust that to a merchant to carry it to the next town.”

I laced my fingers through his hand. “Some messages are carried from Chantry to Chantry. Lothering had a large Chantry for its size.”

“That is the place I really want to visit, love. We got close at Redcliffe, but I want to see it.”

“Maybe I want to see Kinloch too. It's hard to imagine you growing up in the place like the Gallows.” Actually it was all too easy for me to imagine Meredith throwing him into solitary, or causing some of his oldest scars.

Anders' laugh had no humor. “That's just too risky, love. I was nervous when I gave a lecture after Amaranthine burnt. Hardly anyone had been there when I was, all they knew were old capture reports. They don't have old memories that I was harmless. Irving was long dead, and Karl died in Kirkwall. Wynne never returned, as killing the Archdemon gave her a pass from the Chantry, even better than being a Warden. Cullen's probably Knight Commander now. Finn and your cousin didn't really remember me when I lectured, and they feel safe in the Tower. Gregoir probably died of constipation. Just about all the others died during the Blight, mages and Templars, because Uldred wanted power and not freedom for all the Circle. The remaining mages were mostly young and scared of the world, much too young to offer the Joining.”

Both of my hands clasped his hand, and I didn't want to interrupt him.

Anders' other hand slid across my cheek. “I didn't feel one of them anymore, I changed far more than I thought in a few months. I felt sorry for them like hothouse flowers or stunted herbs in a pot too small. Nor did I fit with the mostly Orlesians sent by the First Warden when Cousland was ordered to Weisshaupt for a while. Justice was stuck in a rotting body, but so earnest.”

We were quiet for a few minutes because of all the things that changed, more than being a Warden it seems. I didn't feel that different, but now I had no reason to plan for old age or children. It simplified some things. I said, “No Kinloch, yes for Lothering. Do you have any idea how we might find Flemeth? I really want to know what she meant by those cryptic words.”

His smile was amused. “I don't think anyone sets out to find her. Late night tales we told each other in the Circle said she tricked and killed Templars who hunted her, and that made her one of my younger heroes. I didn't like meeting her on Sundermount. Since she saves people about to be overrun by darkspawn, I'd rather we not put that to a test.”

“Think the Chantry will forward a letter?” When I said that, I got a chuckle. “How about we visit a kennel?”

“I don't think so, love. Maybe in a few years when things have quieted or we have a safer posting.”

I turned my head to where Paws was dozing along with the occasional gas. My throat hurt so much that I had trouble speaking. “I was thinking of an honorable retirement.”

“You may be right love, but he gets an opinion too. I learned the hard way that I can't make major decisions for others.”

I didn't really have to ask, Paws had made that choice clear from the day we met and a roly-poly ball of fur cried for me and not Carver.

We would have to have a talk and I would have to convince him to stay back and guard Anders more. I was going to find a kennel because there had to be better charms and protections than they had in the Marches.

When I yawned, Anders smirked. “Two more things and then I can get you to bed, love. You should... we should meet Avernus. He's lived for ages, like Xenon. I want to see if he might have any older knowledge that might help. Cousland made him sound more like an alchemy lecturer than an ancient blood mage, but even Alistair admitted that Avernus blocked an abomination and kept the demons blocked in. He was studying the effects of taint on our blood, so I'm sure he will want to see mine.”

His hand dropped lower, waking me up again. “And I should meet with Cousland, she's going to want to know all about Corypheus and the schism between Janneka and Larius.”

“And how the dreams of a powerful darkspawn affected Kirkwall for ages and those Wardens who kept thinking they could harness it? Whatever the Tevinter Magisters thought invading the Fade through the blood of Kirkwall slaves would accomplish, it's finally over.” This wasn't just evil but willfully stupid for far too long.

“Shh, love. We need to show her the evidence. But not today. Today we can be just Brana and Heysal, two Grey Wardens known to be madly in love...”

His arms kept getting in my way and he was smirking at me as he wriggled down the bunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	5. Wary Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warden Bethany is glad that the whirlwind that is Hawke and Anders has moved on. Clean-up with a certain elf for company is sweeter than most tasks assigned by senior Wardens.

**Former** **Warden Prison, Vimmark Wilderness**

** \- Warden Bethany Hawke **

Sister and Anders snuck off in the night without saying goodbye.

When hunger from my missed dinner sent me out before midnight, I found only Grey Wardens at the fire. Aveline and Donnic had left too. There were three more dwarven Wardens, including a Commander in uniform.

She wasn't a novice like Sister technically was, but she didn't look that comfortable in her blue and grays. 

The human wardens who arrived earlier were not mingling with the dwarves and looked to me as soon as I arrived, Bansil held himself stiffly away from the new arrivals.

The female dwarf Commander with the Legion of the Dead tattoos grinned up at us. “So you had one of the messier darkspawn to clean up and some Carta mucking around here too? What does this have to do with the Carta trying to kidnap Hawke when she was with us?”

Bansil's anger seethed. “They _hid_ in Orzammar...”

“Stifle it, Duster. They're both Wardens and skilled killers of Darkspawn. Once conscripted, their crimes are erased, just like yours were.” 

Her taint was strong, so I guessed from Sister's tale. “Commander Sigrun?”

“You must be the sister who sent those letters, you have a look about the cheekbones. When your message about that exiled guard got to us in Orzammar, I thought my experience at the Vigil would be useful. I hoped to meet some more of the people Sparklefingers had in his stories.”

Fenris frowned. “Sparklefingers?”

“Anders. He was a charmer at the Vigil, the life of the party, even if _**he**_ had to get it started. That was an uptunnel push with Howe and Velanna, but he kept trying even with that spirit. A different bed-mate every night, or so it seemed in those days. He was quick with his spells while on duty. The Broodmothers and taint they left behind in thaig and tunnels near there were worse there than what we usually find. What types of spawn were down there, and how'd they rate?” She sounded like a Commander, even if few dwarves Joined or got promoted. 

I said, “No broodmothers. This was a powerful darkspawn like the Architect. Sealed in here for ages, his bloody dreams were reaching into others as far as Kirkwall. He had some kind of blood magic he could do even if he was bound into sleep. When he woke, he was worse and transformed the chamber to harrow us insects who would _**not**_ bow down.”

“Stone and dust! Another one of those Spawn who can talk? Anders and Justice would have been mad as a bronto.”

Fenris spoke dryly. “They were incensed.”

The Commander clapped her hands together. “Well then, I brought a former mining caste who can restart the smelter. We'll return this place to the bare Stone...”

Bansil, the Warden who came from Kirkwall, interrupted. “Commander. I think you are not aware of the costs to the rest of the Grey Wardens if we harbor the Scourge. This is risking all of us for one abomination and his blood puppet. We will be impeded and questioned for a murderer. He's killed the people we are to protect, the ones who live those safer, brighter lives in the open air.” Bansil was standing, not quite close enough to loom over Sigrun. “He should be given to the Templars and Chantry for what he did.”

Sigrun's face hardened out of her smile. “And what would that do? Do you want to second guess Wardens with higher rank and accomplishments? Warden Hawke, could you have defeated that darkspawn in here without them?”

Bansil objected. “She could have brought _us_ in...” 

I shook my head. “By the time we knew we were dealing with more than the Carta thugs or even a few darkspawn, we were trapped inside as the seals were collapsing. Without their presence, Corypheus would have walked away while we were fighting hundreds of darkspawn and demons spread around the area. The Wardens would be none the wiser.”

Fenris put his arms around me tightly. “That assumes we could have resisted his control.”

“Do Grey Wardens in the Marches decide what they do by votes? How does that work when a darkspawn breach opens in the middle of a 'safe' tunnel?” Sigrun's voice showed sarcasm, even if her face held a fixed smile.

That made Bansil flush, as it should. Warden-Commander Njáll brooked no questions like his. Bansil muttered a negative.

I thought I'd make a little peace. “A Marcher's fortune rises and falls with the tides, right? My grandfather used that quote in his papers and walls.” I looked at Bansil. “We forget the tides in the Deep Roads, don't we. Up here? Corypheus was a storm... but so are my sister and Anders.”

Arkun snorted from his flask of fierce-smelling alcohol. “We use whatever works and is at hand. You know that. If having uniforms in a spotless yellow makes darkspawn easier to kill, you better hope your lover likes your skinny legs in lemon.”

Selco shook his head from where Walda dozed in his lap. “Let it go, Bann. What do you think a sister is gonna do? A war's not going to make much difference to us in our work. No March or Templar army is _really_ going to follow us into the Deep Roads. Then we'd see how strong their faith _really_ is.”

That got snickers and the mood shifted. Alvirr asked for details about the dragon we'd fought.

I'd have to think about what I learned about Father and about Corypheus, who lived his evil life before there were any darkspawn, before there _was_ a Chantry. A time that was hard to imagine.

In the morning I showed all the new arrivals what we'd done, but most gave Fenris the cold shoulder. My warrior didn't seem to mind, but he grew quieter with every day that passed.

When we took a break a week later, I moved to sit beside Fenris. “Another month more and we should be done here. I...” I didn't know what would happen now between us. “I will probably have to return to Ansburg. I'm not the rogue Warden that Sister and Anders are.”

Fenris leaned closer. “What's it like there? None of you spoke about Warden bases.”

“What can I compare it to? It's nothing like being a free woman, and I was never in any other force. I think Aveline would adapt very well. She likes a clear ranking and specific duties. Sister and Carver served under King Cailan at Ostagar, but now she...”

“Hawke doesn't respect power alone.” Humor threaded through his deep voice for a moment. “Can non-Wardens enter? Or do secrets limit people like me?”

I leaned my head against his shoulders, lightly. “It depends on the particular Warden-Commander. Wardens who are senior ranked are either crazy or petty tyrants with their authority. Nate's told me about the Vigil, which sounded very different from how I was trained.”

“How much of this is because you are Ferelden and not a Marcher or Orlesian?”

“Maybe a lot. Sister and Carver faced the horde and she never said anything against the Wardens that fell in that battle, even before we met others. When I visited the new Lothering, I got respect. I don't know if it was because I was native-born or the uniform. The Vigil is also a fortress of an Arlessa, so there were many non-Wardens who live and work there. Ansburg has far fewer, but there were some.” I was afraid to make any suggestions for his future. “Maybe I might request a transfer to the Vigil, but that rarely happens.” 

Fenris brushed my cheek. “Are there quarters with some privacy at Ansburg?”

“Not many, most stay in the barracks. Support potion brewers and smiths are our few civilians, who get permanent quarters because they stay on the surface.”

“Then I will be a trainer, because I am coming with you. A rotting hulk of a mansion in Kirkwall is not enough to make me want to stay any longer.”

That made me smile. “We can stop and get anything you want to keep.”

For weeks we removed and destroyed anything remotely related to Corypheus. Sigrun recorded what we found about the dwarven exile to send to the Shaperate. As we destroyed remnants, the air seemed to grow cleaner. We found some more old Warden curios as well as some stray darkspawn, but I was very glad that Fenris remained untainted. 

The tower was bare stone and cooled slag now. Later, during our cleanup, we camped where we could see open sky, even if the dwarves preferred to be under the Stone. Arkun and Walda argued that we should repair the bridges so this could make a true Warden base instead of a prison, but we'd need more masons. We didn't find any tunnels into the Deep Roads, so we should not leave the prison until we knew if the darkspawn had ended with Corypheus' life.

It was almost idyllic. I had something useful to do where I could freely use my magic, and I had someone whose eyes glowed for _me_.

But it never lasted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	6. A Little Cottage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When two Wardens reach the relative safety of Fereldan, it has changed and so have they. Puppies and a new disguise, oh my!

**Ferelden,** **Highever Docks**

**Anders:**

The docks at Highever seemed almost small and quaint compared to Kirkwall or Amaranthine. There wasn't much of a shipyard and I didn't see many merchants making deals on the docks. I took a closer look at the proof that this was the port of a Teyrn, one of the most powerful nobles in Ferelden. His leafy circle marked people, buildings, and cargo all over the docks.

High up over the town was Trinna Cousland's family home, with flags flying. I'd never thought of her as a noble. I met her over a pile of dead darkspawn, covered in their muck and singed by my own desperate and half mastered fireball. She was a Grey Warden first to me. This was her before the Joining: privilege, duty, and power.

Once Hawke and I went down the gangplank, the dockworkers took one look at our Warden armor and mabari, and didn't bother us.

I liked that. I wanted to be very ignorable.

We weren't ignored by everything at the docks. Here were more mabaris in one place than I'd ever seen before. They weren't trying to kill me, unlike those feral packs outside Kirkwall. They _were_ very interested in us.

Well, interested in Hawke and her mabari, as we moved away from the ship. Paws sniffed at all the closer dogs while making small noises back and forth. Hawke tilted her head, as if she was as puzzled by their noises as I was. Then I wondered if she understood them.

Few guards stood on watch on the docks. Then I realized that they had many alert guards, uninterested in money. A few howls and I was sure Highever would stop looking as lazy and quiet.

When Hawke turned back to me, I said, “We won't have to go back to Redcliffe now. There must be a kennel here.”

“We don't have an introduction. You wouldn't believe how much trading Papa had to do to get Paws.” Her voice showed her ambivalence that came after learning that her father had done blood magic.

I shook my head. “Love, this is Ferelden and you already have a trained mabari. On top of that, you're a Warden and in uniform. Most Blights laid wastes to entire kingdoms, leaving almost nothing of what existed before the Archdemon rose. Two blights rose in the Anderfels and it's still barren, ages later. Anyone who outlasted the Blight here until Trinna killed it is not going to forget that Wardens ended it. They lived through what other lands forget and deny. This may be the safest place for us, Brana.”

Hawke looked doubtful and gave Paws a low whistle so we could leave for a kennel. Paws led the way out of the port proper and I would swear he grinned at us.

We climbed the steep hill to the castle through the channel of the switchbacks where any defenders could rain rocks or oil down on us. These defenses looked far more solid than the Vigil had been sometimes. Thin moss stains gave minor color to the stonework and hid soot in some cracks.

At a large outer courtyard, many mabari and humans scattered around the enclosure. The people I saw seemed proud of the kennels. I wondered if Hawke wanted to look at the pups, and if there was a chance the Commander's Mouser was sire or grand-sire of the latest litter.

An older man wearing a faded version of the Cousland arms welcomed Brana with the slightest of Orlesian accents. Dera and Altin chatted about mabari care, and I tried not to look bored while holding the purring Mew. Hawke elbowed me.

“A cat lover? That happens doesn't it, Wardens? Your cat looks in good health, Ser Warden. We care for them and other animals too, even if my first love is mabaris. They are the Maker's creatures and yours needs protection for the Deep Roads. That girl, the Arlessa, sent me what she learned during the Blight with her pup.”

That meant Altin knew Trinna personally. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

“I served with Warden Cousland at the Vigil, though Brana is a newer recruit of hers. Is she here? I need to report,” I said.

Looking up at the central keep, Altin said, “No, arms aren't flying. The boys rush to get them up as soon as she's spotted.” 

A litter of young pups bumbled out into the courtyard onto a grassy bed and Paws took a step closer.

The look on Dera's face must have mirrored mine when I found that crate of kittens. I never had the heart to deny any child the chance to take away any kittens I found in Kirkwall, so I gave them away as fast as I. A family in Lowtown or moving to Cumberland was safer for than Darktown.

“Come on into my office. Any kennel would behonored to deal with Wardens, and we can make collars and kaddis for our friends as well. Maybe we can make something better than _that basket_ for him, too.” Altinwas clear in his distaste.

Paws gave a small growl too and butt his head against Hawke. She removed the basket and he rolled over on the grass before moving over to visit the pups.

Hawke's face was wistful when she turned back to the kennel-master. “Paws is old, ser. And guarding Heysal and the kitten has helped keep him back and safe sometimes. Only sometimes.”

The older man shook his head. “You can't do that, Warden. A mabari won't be happy, even if he was sent to stud. The Warden's started to waste away and we had to send him to the Vigil much earlier than the Teyrn wanted. Mouser didn't care what the Teyrn wanted. Attryne was _his_ person. Brana is Paws' person. He might be interested in something else for a few days, but mabari can't be put out to pasture like a horse. He would not be happy. I'm sorry, Warden Brana.” 

I slung Ser Mew back up on my shoulder and put an arm around Hawke as she forced a smile as she ordered the equipment. Hawke's mood got sour after we left the kennel. 

Back down in Highever, Hawke chose a small and quiet inn that looked shabby. We ate until we felt stuffed, even with Warden appetites. A few other customers stared at the empty platters. Hawke flushed, not used to the stares about that or her Warden uniform, yet.

It passed once the Highever folk realized that we were just here to eat. 

One wench had flirted with no finesse and that brought a smile as I remembered when that kind of encounter would have been more than enough. I leaned over to kiss Hawke by her earring. “Are you sleepy, love?”

She looked around the room. “Not yet.”

_Maker, yes._ _Sleep was the last thing I wanted_ _._ I wasn't interested in hero-worship because I was in blue and grays. “Really, love. I passed through a lot of towns and inns and even brothels. That's where I met Isabela. It was fun, but I'm not that man anymore.”

Dera glared at me for a second. “I know that. I'd prefer if you'd had happier years in between...”

I grabbed her hands. “I did. With you.”

Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

Nor did her eyes quite meet mine and I worried. “Is this because I worked in a brothel or had many partners?”

“No... maybe. It was easier to forget in Kirkwall, but not as easy when this happens.”

My head hurt. “Are you ashamed of me? Are you... breaking our engagement?”

No, it was my heart in agony, stuttering as if I was aged and dying.

Hawke's answer was quick. “No! It's not you, you told me about it long ago.”

I pulled her closer, seeking something from touch, something of comfort and not sensual. “Love. Tell me what you want, please.”

“I don't know.” Hawke was still, barely breathing for some time as I held her, retreating into herself as other people finished and left. When she stirred, she whispered, “Honey, tell me what it will be ten years, a hundred years from now when no one hunts or seeks to kill us. A life without looming betrayal and fear from all directions. What would our lives be like, to live a full life? To feel safe?

“I can't see that anymore.” Her voice was very small.

I wanted to wail. Hawke was my hope. If she was lost what chance did I have?

Before I could speak, Justice wanted out.

_Not here, not now!_ I struggled to keep control. _To our room first!_

With a strangled noise, I scooped Hawke up and carried her towards our room. A catcall followed us. 

_Hawke_ _froze in our arms and her skin darkened._

_The_ _door shut after us_ _and the mage finally quieted with Hawke standing again_ _._ _**“It will be an age for justice, where mage and non-mage, elves, humans, and dwarves, work and live. If they abuse others they are punished. If they are abused, they have a right to demand justice**_ _ **no matter the source**_ _ **.**_ _ **Fear and passion**_ _ **s**_ _ **do not**_ _ **create balance and fairness**_ _ **.”**_

Hawke shrugged away from us. “I want stories about better, happier lives. Better than a rootless fugitive life. Justice is no comfort in the Deep Roads. Justice is cold and bloodless, an impersonal puppet of faceless people I'll never see.”

Justice stopped, stymied.

I clawed my way out and reached for Dera to hold her close and warm against me. “Shh, love. We'll find something, somewhere. A cottage, a sod home, an aravel... we'll lounge in silks and linens as winds try to reach us. We'll trade old weapons for aged cheese and raise puppies and kittens. A hundred years can wait a little while.”

Her face was buried in my abbreviated pauldrons, but she did not speak. My love was still hunched and tense so I brought her with me to sit.

I racked my mind, but I hadn't let myself dream of that day, except as what was gone. No Templars, no Circles, no hate. I understood being hated for what happened to the Chantry; that was something I'd done, even if influenced by Vengeance's destructiveness.

Dera wanted stories of living and I tried to cobble daydreams and errant thoughts together. “We grew up in the Bannorn or some small town. Your father taught any youngsters how to control their magic and calmed the fears of farmers like my father. His training and experience fighting demons in the Marches made him a good teacher, and he considered sending Bethany away for more advanced lessons. But he wanted to keep an eye on the boys she met, because of how the other students followed her around to court her. He wanted me to take advanced classes elsewhere and I hid my healing a little so I could pursue his clever daughter after Chantry services...”

She relaxed as I spun tales of freely used magic and even adventure, where fear and anger were for bandits, dragons, and darkspawn. I stopped speaking when her relaxation yielded to a soft snore.

This reminded me of all the things that needed to change and why. Sheer destruction would not make this future for mages. We needed something with the best part of Andraste's lessons about enslavement and responsibility, and mages not imprisoned for their talent but living a normal life with family and purpose.

I fell into sleep as well.

We kicked our heels for only a couple of days for Paws' equipment. It didn't take very long for me to tell all my stories of places like the Pearl and Rose, Isabela mentioned the high points. Several times we spotted Templars, escorting a Mother. They didn't confront us and we didn't provoke them. As soon as the wickerwork was done, I wanted to leave for someplace without a large Chantry.

Dera seemed better after that first night.

I was glad to leave Highever. I wasn't sure if the number of Templars was increasing the longer we remained, or if it was my imagination. I wanted to get away from ports where they might make a sudden appearance.

But Hawke changed, the further from port we got. She spoke less, smiled less... actually the smiles were more fake than even in later Kirkwall. It wasn't that she was cold, exactly, at least not to me, but I didn't like how she acted in Ferelden. 

Finally, I stopped along the raised wall on the old Imperial Highway as it swung around Lake Calenhad; it was a pleasant vista, even without Dera. “Love, we don't have to visit Lothering. I'm just curious.”

Hawke looked troubled. “Mother got a letter from a friend who returned to rebuild. She was chatty and wanted Mother to visit, but she didn't really say much about any great changes. That silence almost shouted in the letter. I know it will have changed and I'm not sure if I want any new memories to erase my old happy ones.”

I frowned because I felt the same. “I hated Kinloch, but I still wonder what happened to the other mages I studied with. Sometimes I could have killed to get at their library. I lectured there after Amaranthine burned and I worried they'd force me to stay with a phylactery. Now they might try to make one for Warden Heysal. I just can't convince myself it would be safe. All it would take is one enchanter who remembers my face or voice.”

“I feel the same about Lothering, and with Paws along. I want to _show you_ where and how we lived here on a farm, mostly like everyone else.”

My next breath almost choked me because I wanted so much for my life: that my father accepted me, that my family really cared more than they feared magic. I might have wished that Malcolm Hawke had been my father, but that would have meant Hawke was my sister, and _**that**_ I didn't want. 

The only other father that I knew cared and hadn't stopped was the last Viscount in Kirkwall. Cousland 's father died, killed by Nathaniel's. Vael was vengeful for his. But I really didn't know anything about the others of Hawke's circle. Wait, Varric mentioned some scandal about his father, and Aveline's had been an Orlesian. Everyone knew of Alistair's father, but I could name far more who were on poor terms with their fathers.

I put an arm around my Champion. “Then I would be glad to meet him in your memories here, love. Come.”

We reached a bend in the Imperial Highway as it followed the Lake Calenhad shoreline. Ahead of me was my first clear view of the small village nestled along the Highway. Beyond the clean and neat village were ruins of a large Chantry some distance away. The overgrown building looked a bit forlorn and charred even from this distance. The closer buildings were wood and plainer than other villages, even within Ferelden. At this distance, villagers moving between buildings seemed tiny. The fields all had the crops already greening the soil and I supposed the farmers were doing whatever they did until harvest began. Hawke would know.

Hawke started to laugh and couldn't stop.

I let her go for a moment before joining her. We needed this.

Finally she wiped tears from her eyes. “I... ah, never considered that they wouldn't rebuild where things were before. Mother's friend never mentioned it. That's what she didn't want to admit to Mother. Lothering moved.”

“Yes, love, that is pretty obvious.”

“No, no. You're not asking the right question. Which direction did it move? It's not going to move away from the highway, because traveling merchants complained that moving freight safely cost more and slowed them down and hurt their backs. Some wore fake bandaging to try to wring an advantage.” Hawke chuckled again as we moved down the stairs. 

That put us at the end of a common area that held some merchants and young people playing some game with a ball and a stick. She didn't stop scanning around us as we moved, probably transposing her memory with what was here now.

I looked around for any threats. I saw a Templar speaking to one sweating from the game. He was not attending the Sister who was also in the square. I 'd heard rumors of a rift and wondered  at their truth .

One larger building, but still not large, looked like a Chantry. They managed to claim one that had a stone foundation, but it wasn't built to impress nor was it ornamented much. Hawke laughed again as we got closer. Not even a stone's throw away was a large rock. Dried paint had been scraped off, but underneath I could see lettering carved into the rock. I looked around and understood why Hawke was laughing. These buildings had been built on their farm, and the barn where years of magic lessons had been taught to Bethany.

I spoke over our quiet. “Let's find an inn.”

We moved through the village, and many buildings still looked cobbled together, even years later. I didn't say anything, and Hawke was still thinking, though she gripped my hand. The _Dane's Refuge,_ an inn, had taken a farm house and Hawke pulled up her hood as we approached it. 

The innkeeper frowned at Paws, but another call for an ale caught her attention. 

Hawke didn't relax when we were shown a room in a plainly newer hallway, and prowled around the bare room, checking the window, table, and bed for vermin. “I don't know if I would have laughed or cried when I came back.”

“Tell me, because we're here.”

Her half-smile was self mocking. “I'm not the story teller that Varric is.”

“No one is, love. But I want to hear about _your_ childhood, here in Lothering.”

Some shouts came dimly from the tavern, but she sat beside me on the bed. “Well, the old _Dane's Refuge_ had a lot of fights, like any inn at a crossroads. Outside were stocks for minor crimes and an exposed cell I heard had the Qunari murderer of the Holan family. He was held for the Arl or Bann's judgment, but the Arl of South Reach left everything to the Bann and he hadn't been here for months. We heard he fled from the Blight to Orlais.”

“Did you talk to the Qunari?”

“He just watched when we staggered back here after Ostagar and didn't want to speak. He seemed content to be left for the darkspawn. I didn't hear about what he did until Mother and Bethany told us on ship.”

We talked far into the night, and snuck out a few times to look around the inn when others slept. The original bedrooms had been cleaned and replastered, but they were for richer travelers than we wanted Brana and Heysal to appear. There was a plaque with her named Champion and a few phrases about the Second Qunari Invasion of Kirkwall, and they sounded like Varric had written them. Other family names were only mentioned.

Hawke started shaking her head as we returned to our room. “Carver would have hated this.”

“He was still young when he died. You said he was more mature at Haven.”

“It was always too soon, Heysal...”

Holding her close, I rubbed her arms. “At least Carver had family with him and he knew what he faced.” 

I saw that Hawke was too quiet and looking inward, perhaps remembering her mother's death. “Leandra had you at the end, love. You got to say goodbye. That is a lot.”

She hugged me. “I'm sorry, I had mine longer and I know it was better than what happened for you. So, do you want to try to find them, maybe in a year or two?”

Glad for a change of topic, I wanted a more cheerful or even salacious one. “I'm not sure I want to play the Grey Warden all the time. Do you want to plan for another guise for when we travel?”

She got suspicious right away. I didn't know _why._

Actually I did, because my voice had dropped with my memories of what was in one of Varric's books. She hadn't read them, unless she read them completely when I slept, which I doubted. “You can wear full armor and I get to have some fun.”

“What did you have in mind?” Her voice showed some dread.

It didn't bother me, this was more a joke. “You, love, are my pimp, taking me to Antiva, Rivain, or someplace near our destination. I can cling to you and you can threaten anyone who approaches us to your heart's delight. I think I can do a good imitation.”

“But you can't be armed.”

I pouted. “No one takes a whore seriously, they will just stay back from my daggers thinking that is the only danger. I can carry Mew and lisp like Orlesians. Fake lisps are common in brothels.”

Hawke was bemused. “That is quite a change from a Warden too. And nearly as unremarkable as a Chanter. I don't like that you don't have armor.”

It wasn't planned, but it was starting to sound like fun, too. “We could try it out moving from Soldier's Peak to the Vigil. Me in armor there, is more likely to trigger a memory there than anywhere else. Not that I wore armor much, it was just being distributed when I left, but it might remind them.”

“I'm not a seamstress, we'll need to find one. Explaining it is your problem.”

We found a tailor the next morning, one who was too new to Lothering to have any memories of the Blight. He didn't say anything, but I could see he thought this was for private entertainments.

It would be for that, too. But first I wanted it to make me look as loose and foolish as he could. He suggested a cosmetic mole and light cosmetics. Those would be perfect, and I just _could not wait_ to see Warden Cousland's reaction when we appeared on her doorstep.

I ordered a spare made and insisted on cheap pearls and garnets being sewn on, but our stay in Lothering still wasn't too much above a week. There just wasn't that much fabric in my costume. I wanted to make sure some scars were hidden. It was early summer in chilly Ferelden, so that wasn't a problem.

Before we left, Hawke arranged for the rest of the family names to be added to Malcolm's memorial along with death dates and a Grey Warden griffin for Bethany.

_ Would anyone know of Hawke's sacrifice for me? _

_ Would anyone care? _

_** We know. We will remember. ** _

_ That isn't comforting, Justice. _

That was as close to comforting as he got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	7. Back to Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric's life settled again, allowing him to work on his next friend-fiction, discreetly, after the Vimmark prison. But that doesn't mean problems can't wash up at the Hanged Man...

** Kirkwall, the Tethras suite at the Hanged Man **

** \- Varric **

_ 24/Ferventis _

I put my quill aside and looked at what I just wrote in my trade journal. I could add the year of the Dragon Age in the way the Chantry counted things, or I could count it as the... seventh year of Bhelan Aeducan the Fourth's official rule, to remain consistent with the rest of the Merchant's Guild. This was the start of the fifth year without a Viscount for Kirkwall, so that was no help. 

None of that changed the fact that there was no good answer, no clever answer. The fighting in almost every kingdom said that much more fighting would happen before things settled down again. It was all moving too fast for me to record with any accuracy and style.

Not that Kirkwall held any excitement for these days of early summer when the stone held in the winter cool. I wasn't about to record much about the Warden ruins from spring. My charming Seeker still felt free to drop in on occasion and I didn't want to seem any more interesting than my dealing with a Carta base. Another couple of weeks and I would have finished cleaning up any errors by my agents while I was gone. 

I wasn't about to admit it to the Seeker on her next 'surprise' visit, but dueling words with her was nearly the most fun I had since last autumn. The Guard Captain and Broody just weren't as entertaining to play diamondback with. 

The Rivaini stopped by when she hit port, too, but she didn't stay long. We avoided talking, at least about the bronto in the room.

Ferventis was almost over and I was treading water, wondering what would wash into Kirkwall next.

I would take care of my own business, trading and writing and hoping the storm was over here. What few Templars and mages remained in Kirkwall were very subdued with their rebuilding, not that many had stopped to chat. Even Dumar could govern Kirkwall now.

_ Now why did I shiver at that? _

The tavern noise from below changed tones.

Not much, but I reached for Bianca even as I set my ciphering glasses aside. The report on ships and shipments lost in Blondie's war would wait until I dealt with an intruder. Heavy steps on stone stairs included the scrape of metal armor, more than I usually heard here upstairs. I shoved my documents aside for a quick exit. 

I could have hired bodyguards like my brother had, but what happened to the ones he last hired still bothered me some nights. They were also weak points when other Houses wanted to take my businesses or secrets came to make a deal. A wall of guard made storytelling impossible and prices usually went up, too since I wasn't the harmless younger son, no matter how much of my chest-hair I displayed. 

The steps stopped outside my door and paused. A stranger, then, or they sounded like several strangers. 

When they knocked, I called out, “Come in!” I scraped my chair back a little as the door opened, so I had room to move away

I didn't recognize the cloaked dwarves that entered. Two carried worn shields of experienced and traditional grognards, and the female had a gold clan pin. All three were marked with three waves. That was an old House, and much more powerful than House Tethras had ever been. _Which_ _H_ _ouse was that again?_ I had to guess.

“Lady Harrowmont! You didn't need visit my humble abode. The Merchant's Guild has council rooms for visiting deshyr.”

Calling her deshyr was a fifty-fifty chance, but safe. No surface dwarf _ever_ really objected to being taken as an Orzammar noble, so I wasn't stretching too much. Her clothing was still traditional, like what Mother had worn in the small home that she fussed over near the Alienage until my father scraped enough together for Hightown. This female still had the slightest cringing that a deep dwarva carried for five years or more on the surface.

She frowned. “Are you Varric Tethras, the casteless with a sense of honor?”

“You wound me, madame.” I spread my arms, hoping to look harmless. “House Tethras has been very honorable, even up here amongst unruly human wars and mad Carta thugs. My family had many fond memories of the Diamond Quarter before my father's embarrassments, so we found ourselves a place in a city of solid Stone where our trade contacts and business acumen serve us well. How may House Tethras serve you today?” 

Her disdain increased as she looked down her nose at me. “Save me your grandiloquent words, I've seen your books. I require your connections for a safe place.”

_T_ _hat sounded_ _interesting.._ _._ _and profitable._ “What kind of safe place do you need? You've seen the damage the humans' war did to Kirkwall.”

Her frown grew as her eyes got abstracted. Then she opened her cloak. “I require a safe place where I needn't worry about wars of the surface.”

For a moment I'd focused on her expression more than the fine silk and quilting of her very traditional high caste clothing. I completely missed her gravid condition.

_That_ made me stop breathing. Even with all my guild contacts, I almost never saw any females of my kind. Most were sheltered away like my mother. I liked to joke with Isabela that female Qunari and female dwarves were as mythical as Andraste's Ashes... maybe more mythical now. Few females left what homes they had because there had been that rash of bride stealing after I was born. _For her to be out like this,_ _she could be in more danger than she knows_ _..._ “Congratulations, my lady. May the Stone shelter you long and well.”

“I don't _care_ about your flowery words. Tethras. Safety is what I... we need.” She stopped herself suddenly, unable or unwilling to tell me more.

Despite her snootiness, she was afraid. Usually old money was enough, and I cast her as the dame on the run. I drummed my fingers twice, thrice as I tried to guess her problem. One, she needed safety and fled away from Orzammar very recently, by clothing and her retainers. Two, and even better, she didn't want to say what she feared. That stank of politics, and the damsel was obviously on the losing side and without friends. The only question was how powerful her enemies were up here on the surface. 

That made me want to laugh. This was so familiar, because this kind of thing happened so many times. I'd offer her a drink to calm her, and send a note to Hightown or Darktown. If we'd been playing cards, Hawke would already have taken action. 

But I didn't do that kind of thing, I didn't want petitioners or attention as much as Hawke willing to put up with.

She cleared her throat nervously, but didn't speak.

For one of the high caste grand dames to be like this it had to be a bigger group... or a higher. “How angry is King Bhelan with you, Lady Harrowmont? Wasn't the throne settled years ago?”

“Yes, it was.” She looked at me with a little more respect. “But I refuse to allow my clan to be erased.”

I waved at her gravid belly. “Won't that be a little difficult now? The Shaperite overrides politics, doesn't it?”

Her smile was a little grim. “Yes, for most politics. But inheritance among deshyr has not changed, despite the loosening regarding the surface. I am barely a clan leader since father's run for the throne nearly destroyed us. _Then_ my lover was Denek, Deshyr Helmi, a little too powerful for the king to offend.”

I leaned forward, wishing I could take notes. I waved her to a comfortably low seat. “And?”

“He turned me away after 'many years of proven infertility,' to return to the gutted Harrowmont halls. Denek was reasonable; he didn't betray me to the king but he won't help me regain power either.”

The irony of the proven barrenness made me laugh and the lady joined in as she rubbed her belly. 

I had to know, it was _my price_ _._ “So who's the lucky father and just why is that a problem?”

“I cannot claim Harrowmont for myself, and Behlan decreed my children take their father's caste. Any other clan would claim _my child away_ with the king's blessing,” she said with a snarl. “But Wardens don't want children. If I don't produce a father of some rank, my nugget will be casteless as part of my clan's punishment. I need a father above Dusttown who won't take him away from me.”

I supposed I should thank the Stone and Maker that she hadn't come looking for someone like my brother right after the Blight. She was handsome... but my stone chair wasn't that comfortable.

“Then I can claim regency of the Harrowmont seat in the Assembly, and rebuild. But deshyr won't vote for me if the father is casteless.”

And the king would prefer his enemies fade away without issue and without making more enemies. Females who might be fertile were too valuable to execute out of hand. But still, _C_ _hild of a Grey Warden? That book almost wrote itself._ “I can find you to a safe place to deliver here on the surface.” 

“No! Find me Arkun, Grey Warden Arkun Brosca. _He came up_ _here_ _to_ _the surface!_ ” She looked fierce and beautiful.

The lady Harrowmont wanted him for more than mere politics.

Did she realize that?

I had to learn the end of this story. Would it be a tragic bid for power or a rousing romantic adventure? I may never know the end of Hawke and Blondie's story, but this tale was promising.

“Relax. Have your guards take a seat or go watch the hallway. I'll need to learn more about this Warden of yours. How did you meet him? What mission brought him above?” I opened a fresh bottle of something good. Her story should take a while, so I poured a couple of glasses as her traditionally silent guards moved to the hall.

She blinked a little too often when she started to speak, and her voice slowed with emotion.“Arkun contracted to fight in Provings for other teams. It's nearly the only way for a duster to meet upper caste. Arkun likes fighting Warden-Commander Sigrun, because her fights are clean. He survived when the dwara and human Wardens won their Proving. Arkun saw his chance to leave being casteless behind by becoming a Warden and he took it. Then I discovered I wasn't _really_ infertile.” 

Rank at birth was more important in the thaigs and there was a good symmetry to her story about Wardens and the fate of her clan. “I may know a Warden or two who can help if they're in Kirkwall. You'll stay right here quietly while I do some checking.” 

And she did. Take a room, or take over a room for herself and her men, despite objections. 

They were dour traditionalists, warrior caste who'd served the Harrowmonts for generations. Refusing to cringe by force of will, it was very clear that they did _not_ like the surface, our Humore and Dumore. They didn't like me that much either when I started calling them that for lack of any other names to use.

Still they were efficient and watchful as bodyguards could be, but painfully naive about the dangers not in the Deep Roads.

I could have found her rooms in a cul de sac where mostly other dwarves lived and her alien dress would stand out less. But I was sure Orzammar had ears and probably agents there, and mine were thicker here in Lowtown. So she threw a few tantrums and got one scare from a ragtag Carta remnant when she visited the ruins and market in Hightown.

I expected that, people up here didn't give a damn about her caste in Orzammar. Only other dwarves would put special care for fertile females.

The Wardens had not returned from those Carta ruins yet, and I did _not_ want to interrupt the removal of all traces of that Blight-taken creature from the area. I lived here.

I was counting on Sunshine passing through. She promised to stop and she knew more of the rank and file than Blondie. I just had to keep the Duchess happy for a few weeks.

I'd send a message through Donnic, just to be safe.

_ She was having a baby. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Part of this chapter was published as a challenge flashfic “The Old Guard.” Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	8. The Green Hills of Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian returns home under the Orlesian Templar's close guard. Now he is heir and will need to assume duties he never had before, such as diplomacy and marriage negotiations.

**Starkhaven** **,** **Castle of the Prophet's Hand**

**Sebastian Vael:**

When we arrived at outer gate of the Starkhaven royal palace, more alert guards than my last return greeted me. The watch-captain looked suspiciously at my warder. “Welcome back, Your Highness. We are glad you returned safely home.” He paused. “Will your escort be reporting back to the Knight-Commander?”

“Ser Jayne has been assigned by the Knight-Vigilant to oversee my safety while I traveled. She is to be offered every courtesy while here, and she should be compensated for her expenditures on my behalf by tomorrow.”

I saw the glint in his eye as he absorbed the ambivalence of my words. Still, he set his jaw and escorted us inside. Ser Jayne was assigned the room next to mine, but I knew the secret routes and could leave without her notice if I wished.I had no plans to reflect poorly on my heritage or Elthina's guidance.

My cousin and his council interviewed me again and it wasn't as tense as the last time, at least on my part. They seemed satisfied that I had given up on raising an expeditionary force against Kirkwall. Out came more questions to see if I had designs on the throne. I had accepted that I'd been away too long and my cousin had been ruling adequately.

I would have to find some other way to serve the Maker, and this gave me time to get to know my daughter. My old suite had been refreshed with some of my possessions and I ordered one of the smaller breakfast rooms prepared for a breakfast to meet with my daughter Marsaile alone.

Unfortunately, the more pleasant topics of Chant and teachers were left behind with the honey-cakes. Formally, I stated, “I am very sorry, but I have acknowledged you as my heir, and that would place you as second in line for the throne of Starkhaven if the Maker calls us to His side.”

“Are you announcing this now because I don't like how the Grand Cleric tolerated the heathens?” As she got more irritated, her speech got less refined.

I realized that her being sheltered could be a problem. “No. Kirkwall was a crossroads and some of the Qun can be persuaded to turn away. You should meet more foreigners, their needs are often different.”

“They turned to the Chant? They sing the Maker's praises?” My daughter's sarcasm overrode her reasonable questions.

Her impudence was too familiar from about fifteen years ago, but now I was the teacher. “No, but we must be satisfied with small victories. If they turn from the loveless and cold beliefs of their book, they must see the glory of the Maker's creation and the caring of Andraste for all the Maker's children. They know not love or family.”

“ _ **They**_ did not slay the Grand Cleric.”

I poured some tea to gather my thoughts. “No, they did not. They act in cold reason for their current goals, without compassion or love. When their leader decided a Kirkwall that was not under their control was unacceptable, military conquest began. He murdered the Viscount to terrorize what nobles lived in Kirkwall. I have no doubt he would have addressed the Grand Cleric once he had military control. The histories are clear, they do not tolerate the Chantry and have ways to force compliance on Sisters and the commons if they resist.” This I had to make clear. “Their Arishok was charismatic and correct that we fail the poorest of His children, human and elves. That does not make his way better, but some, especially those without hope in this life, may choose in error.”

Marsaile's blue eyes reflected confusion, anger, and frustration. “You sound like you approve. Are you a traitor to the Chantry too, like the Scourge and the Champion?”

That cut me to the quick, as I often wondered that during my reflection and prayer in the last months. I answered quickly. “No! The Chant is still the foundation of my thoughts and faith. But I have seen places and times where the answers are not simple and shepherds have gone astray. The Divine Andraste was also a warleader and made allies in her March. The Archon Hessarian saw the light.”

“That was pragmatism.” Her accusation was an old descant to the Chant.

I shook my head. “Even if it was, only the Maker knows for sure. In effect, he helped make the Grand March victorious, and that was worthy.”

“These rebels from Kirkwall will go to the Void like the Magisters and other maleficarum, like all the mages not under Templar rule. The Scourge and that so-called Champion are the cause of this war.”

Sweeping comments were the easiest to refute. “What about mages who are serving the Grey Wardens with honor? What about the mages who helped defeat the Archdemon in that long campaign against the fifth Blight? Some mages are well trained and believers in the Chant, they are the Maker's children too.”

Horror exploded in her voice. “Sweet Andraste! They used their magic _on you._ You swore that you would punish them!”

“Sister Marsaile!” My voice shifted to command as a senior Brother. “This is in confidence, do you understand me?”

She nodded, though her eyes sparkled with anger.

“I found the Scourge in Ferelden and yes, he used his magic on me. To heal me, his enemy. I swore to see him face the Maker's judgment, and he sought Andraste's Ashes. He was not struck down, but cured of the madness. I witnessed it.”

“A murderer. They both started this war and destruction.”

She didn't know them and all we did in blackened Kirkwall. I must have forgiven Anders more since we parted. “The Templars and mages have fought for too many ages. Love and tyranny exist on both sides. Knight-Commander Meredith loved no one and forgot about the Maker's mercy and Andraste's grace. I hate what Anders did. So does Hawke. And so does Anders. They may have triggered the war, but other tensions are as much involved. Nevarra and Orlais are fighting again, Tevinter is rumored on march into Antiva... Kirkwall is an excuse.”

I hated that Elthina's death was only an excuse for war to break out across Thedas. Those weren't to improve the world, they were petty conquest.

I realized the silence had gone too long when Marsaile said, “Do you know where they are?”

“No. I don't think they knew. They wanted to stay out of trouble. For all I know, they may turn up for a visit next month. Or he may go into the Deep Roads for his Calling tomorrow.”

“You admire them.” Her voice held a surprised wonder.

“They do what they believe is right. I may not always agree with their actions, but they have not sought personal power and helped others at their own cost.” A smile of envy could not be repressed. “They are very much in love, and that does not show in the rumors about them. It would have been much easier, and Hawke could have been Viscount if she hadn't had a mage lover. Once I tried to encourage that duty.”

Her voice was resigned. “You haven't made friends with Magisters or Qunari, have you, Ser?”

That made me laugh. “No. I met the Arishok before the uprising, and I could understand his frustration with the sins of Kirkwall. But his battle would remove all of the free will the Maker grants. The Magisters kept slaves, and Andraste's March brought them low.”

“Are your opinions why you did not return to service?”

I had to swallow, and felt my face warm. “I... The Grand Cleric thought me too militant after our family died. But I am no longer worthy to remain as a shepherd, so I cannot lead services. I thought I was the last of our line and lost in a cruel age.”

Her face had a kind of pity. “No one is alone in the Maker's service.”

I knew that. “Knowing and feeling are not always the same.”

“Every child of the Maker must work to be worthy of His blessing and strive to be like Andraste in the purity of their faith. It's just that simple,” Marsaile said.

I could only hope that it would stay that simple for her, but I doubted there would be peace for years.

After that we spoke on her education as my heir and began daily lessons that continued for weeks. I wasn't as sure she'd absorb the tutoring in diplomacy and deportment. She did not take to either as well as I hoped, until I realized she wasn't rebelling from her duty.

In that I was proud of her. I had not been the best student either as a young lad.

Ser Jayne assisted me with the training and practice, and she seemed to feel uncomfortable with serving in the palatial castle while I was at my desk one day. The sunlight came through the colored glass and shone brightly on her dusky skin and darker hair. “Ser, should I continue to be your guard? I cannot be sure if I know what threats to watch for.”

I set aside an old journal written by Grandfather Kyros. “Peace. I am content with your services as long as the Chantry is willing to lend them, so they can sure I am not another threat. I have discovered this account of how the first Vael became Prince. I do not need to worry any more than I did when I was a foolish princeling, as my cousin has opened marriage negotiations with Nevarra to move me down the succession. There is no profit in assassinating me.”

“What enemies would want to kill you, Ser? Would the Scourge want to eliminate you?”

That made me laugh, to her surprise. “No, lass. Neither the Champion nor he have been heard from, have they? She defeated an Arishok from her nerve and leadership, and she only survived because the one called the Scourge fought so very hard to prevent her from dying of her wounds. Wherever they are, they are together.”

Her incoherent objection was like my daughter's.

“I swore that he would face justice. I swore that I would lay waste to a city _innocent_ of his actions. Not all oaths are just in the Maker's eyes.”

“Do you know where they are? Will they attack you?” She sounded worried and horrified.

I shook my head. “No, the only things I am sure of are that they are not in Tevinter or with the Qunari. They hate them more than the Circles. They have rescued and aided Templars and hunted blood mages too.”

“He is a Maleficar!”

“A blood mage cursed him and shaped his outrage at abuses by Templars and a corrupt Mother. I believe I can mourn the healer he once was, can I not? He worked tirelessly in the poorest part of Kirkwall for years.”

“Lives from the gutter are not equal to the Grand Cleric!”

I let that angry comment hang in the air for a moment. She knew that was not an approved part of the Chant. Service to the Maker included joining Him sooner. I spoke just after her skin began to darken from her embarrassment. “You know the Maker values every living thing, even the smallest sparrow. _We_ are the ones who fail Him.”

Now I could only mourn how I never understood this before Elthina went to the Maker's side. I finally understood the mercy and compassion she tried to teach me. Too many of those she was trying to teach listened no better than I and took her teacher's silence as a blessing for their actions. Elthina was willing to die rather than call Meredith's authority into question. Cullen had that right as the second in command. A Viscount should have if they were strong in their own right. As the Maker willed it, Elthina went to his side. It felt like too early.

I missed her every day, and prayed that she was proud of me.

Ser Jayne coughed and handed me some linen.

I felt the wet on my face, and turned aside. Coughing, I tried to speak dispassionately. “They are gone, and only the Maker knows where they are. I will work for an answer to allow all the Maker's children to love without fear.”

“Did you mean 'live?'”

I looked at her.

“You said, 'love without fear.' Ser.”

That made me chuckle. “I meant living, but loving is just as apt. Loving the Maker is part of life, as is loving their family, loving a spouse, and caring about all the Maker's children. Do Magisters truly love? I submit, how can they learn great love and self-sacrifice without Andraste and a family to teach them?” I looked at her doubtful expression. “If you want to be pragmatic, a mage still in loving and regular contact with their family would not want to become an abomination who would destroy their loved ones. Love is a stronger protection than chains.”

She didn't look convinced. But weeks passed where I visited with my daughter and checked on her education.

I heard of more unrest, so I prayed in vigil whenever I heard of a Circle being annulled or declaring independence. The maps in the Council chamber were continually being amended, though unrest had skipped Starkhaven so far. The only major change was that some mages who had fled other rebellious towers arrived and quietly took up residence in the unfinished Tower.

A few Templars transferred themselves from their Chantry quarters. I wasn't sure what happened when they met, but suddenly the resident Templars were relieved by squads of arriving Templars. They clamped down on the mages. Set Jayne didn't know any more than me, nor was she summoned by the new arrivals.

By early summer no sign arrived from the Maker, and I was restless. Trade and entertainments were few, and I was glad we were large enough to be self-sufficient here. One afternoon I heard a rumor of another successful import shipment, and I wondered about the books that the maids were tittering about.

A visit to a booksellers and there were piles of the most popular titles. I'd heard some snickering comments about the Stone Heartbreaker series, Sister Cheri and the Secret Sects, and The Naughty Templar's Discharge. What was more surprising were titles like The Good, the Bas, and the Ugly, Apostitute of Kirkwall, and the Champion's Harem Bed. One bookseller seemed embarrassed by the short lovers and scantily clad art, but the other looked gleeful as he wrapped the recommended books. “Another book is due out for the anniversary. It might be a tired old story, but the books still sell well, your Highness. Should we put you down for a copy?”

I answered something non-committal and returned to the palace with warm ears.

Back in my suite, the embarrassment was quickly explained when I opened the first book about a prostitute, and I wanted to choke. Unless Hawke had been much more open about just what she did with Anders than what I had seen, Varric's imagination was very... vivid. Colorful or not, I couldn't put it down.

Then I couldn't resist trying to figure out what activities might have happened. The room had gotten very warm and my imagination was caught by salacious thoughts triggered by Varric's prose. Most embarrassing was that it was all too easy to imagine participating in something like those scenes, and my breathing grew shallow and clothing uncomfortable.

My lusts were stretching awake and reminding me that I wasn't an impatient and greedy child anymore, nor was there any more reason to be chaste. I was expecting suggestions for duty-bound marriage alliances from the Council to make or strengthen alliances.

There was a choking sound from beside me where Ser Jayne had a different book. Distracted from my own shameful titillation, I asked, “What is it?”

She slammed the book shut and let her ebony hair hide her eyes. “This tale is scandalous... and the author should be flogged and run out of the city for such falsehoods!”

I looked at the cover of the book I had again. The dwarf on the cover resembled Varric more than Anders, but the descriptions inside fit the mage. Varric told so many stories, I had not thought about how popular his tales would be. With a new unease I asked, “What falsehoods would they be?”

“Th..that Hawke gained the... loyalty of so many in the bedroom.”

Again my jaw dropped, but I held out my hand so I might look at the cover. It had only a red four-poster and a burning candle in the foreground.

“You did not dally with them?” She spoke from beside me, her voice oddly neutral.

“No. That is absurd. I lived in Chantry quarters and still held myself as a Brother.” I had to ask about the boulder poised to fall. “Them?”

She flushed enough to be seen. “All of them: the exotic and grateful ex-slave, the stoic but secretly romantic watch officer, the mage who left them wanting more, the scarred and earnest Templar, the pirate queen, the wild flower, the... lecherous prince.” Ser Jayne choked on saying that, in addition to her flush.

Really, I should not have been surprised. Isabela and Varric had made jokes about their stories when gambling at _the Hanged Man_ many times. “How recognizable are we?”

Her brown eyes didn't meet mine as she tried to hedge. “I don't know these people for comparison...”

“Jayne!”

“I thought he captured your appearance and speech quite well.” Her voice was very tiny. “The romantic scenes seemed very awkward and awkward compared to the slave or the mage's, despite the 'orbs of holy cerulean that only the Maker could have made.'”

 _Awkward_ _?_ I tried to breathe and calm myself after the insult to my youthful prowess. I'd been shipped away, not because of any complaints about my skills. “Comparisons are only tools of pride. This is truth.” I leaned over to kiss her.

Once I might have blamed wine or youthful excess, but as my lips touched hers I realized I had wanted this for longer than I knew. I nibbled her lip as my arms reached around her armor, discovering too late we couldn't get as close as I wanted.

My moan against her throat woke my conscience up, and I disengaged as quickly as I could. I looked at the polished cabinet and choked out what I must say. “I am sorry. I should not have done that, I had no right to do that. You can of course remain here at the palace or the Chantry until you gain another assignment if you wish another assignment.”

Her gauntlet grazed my arm. “I was curious and that was much better than in the story.”

When I looked up into her eyes, they shone with satisfaction and a small portion of greater warmth. “Are you still curious?”

Jayne pulled me close now and was soon sucking on my Adam’s apple. Her being in full armor made my simpler clothing seem an extra tasty contrast, and this nearly forgotten thrill was fresh and new again.

I would put tomorrow into the hands of the Maker.

“The Brother in the story doesn't compare.” Jayne's gauntlet-free hands traced along my collarbone.

“I thank you for that admission, but I am not telling him more details. Maker's breath, I do not want to think how he researches his stories.”

Looking over at me, Jayne grinned, her eyes sparkling like cool tea on a hot day. “I wondered if the Champion was... is that kind to kiss and tell.”

That made me flush. “I wouldn't know. Honestly, Hawke and Anders never had eyes for anyone else, that's why this book is so silly.”

“You seemed a little flushed from the book you were reading. I wasn't sure if you lived a chaste life, or if you would...” Her voice petered out.

“How I could have a daughter in the Chantry? Marsaile must have been an embarrassment to my parents as she was their first... only grandchild, and she was born out of wedlock. I didn't know about her until last year because I was packed off to Kirkwall.” I had to pause. “When my family was murdered, I wanted both to return to my duties here _and_ remain a Brother as Elthina urged me. Until I decided, I remained a Brother, who helped others when called.”

Her voice got quieter. “So you have decided you are a prince again.”

I rubbed my forehead. “I never completely stopped, as much as I thought I had. I ordered or made requests or hired others. But I never dealt with logistics and supply, let alone the human costs. I commissioned no works of art nor brokered peace nor worked with the neediest that Andraste's heirs ought. _I should have stayed_ to help the victims or search for the Grand Cleric or other survivors. Rage and vengeance were my bread and water for too many months. My parents would have been ashamed of me.”

“You have fond memories of them, that's good to hold on to.”

I reached for comfort to the finely made silk pouch that had not left my company since I received it.

“What's that?”

I held the pouch. “One of several miracles we found with Andraste's Ashes. I met Grandfather Kyros' spirit and he gave of his wisdom and reminded me of the Divine's wisdom about the mustard. Then he gave me this seed.” I looked at her to be sure she understood. “Grandfather Kyros was the first Vael to lead Starkhaven, and he is a great inspiration to me. I was blessed to meet him within the shrine.”

I poured a few seeds out into my palm and stirred them with a finger. Jayne touched them, a seed catching in her callus. I put the seeds away into the pouch and grasped her hand in mine, tracing where her skin was rough from her weapons work.

Jayne pulled her hand away.

“That is honest work, dear.” I showed her the thick calluses on my hand from years of training with bow and blade. “I am not the foolish boy I was. I do not know what tests the Maker plans for us, but I hope to share your company.”

The smile appeared in her translucent tea-brown eyes before it came to her words. “I would enjoy that as well, Sebastian.”

Those eyes reminded me of the polished and fine grained wood of a fine bow. I wasn't sure yet if she would appreciate that comparison, but she was a warrior too. She fit my ideal of the strong arm of the Chantry, with a lovely and faithful soul as well.

If we were to move beyond suspect and guard, I had to be more honest about some things.

“There is another part of the story of the Ashes. The other pilgrims were the Champion and the Scourge. She sought a cure for him. He sought freedom from the burden of resisting a Vengeance demon. They admitted he should face the Maker's judgment, but did not trust the bias of human mercy.”

Jayne nodded. “It seems they convinced you in part. You granted mercy in Orlais.”

“They are not the maddened murderers rumor paints them. They are able killers, but even before they found the Ashes, he retained the human compassion of a healer. You see, those assassins and mercenaries I hired? They numbered in the hundreds. Hawke and her allies demolished my company. Anders stopped Hawke and healed me.

“He understood, and sought mercy. He understood and granted mercy, despite my being a sworn enemy. That is not what a Scourge would do. He passed the tests and reached the Urn of the Sacred Ashes. The Demon Vengeance was defeated by us, and with the Maker's grace will not be able to return for an age.” I wanted her to understand my epiphany.

“So you know what happened to them.”

“I last saw them at Satinalia. I did not ask where they were going, and they did not offer. Hawke and I were not as much friends as when we debated noble blood and duties in the Chantry. I am sure we will hear of them again. While she believes in mage rights and that too many faithful are ruled by rage and fear, she hates violence on innocents. I doubt she will interfere if armies fight each other... She is still a Champion.”

Jayne was scornful. “What about the innocents in Kirkwall?”

“That troubles them both, as they believe in justice. They came to Andraste's Ashes to face the Maker's Justice. I don't think they expected mercy. It is hard for me to refute that he faced judgment, as I demanded. That the Maker did not demand his life is not my right to overturn in my pride. This has become one of those knotty morality tests I had as a novitiate. One that has no good answer.”

She looked troubled too. “This explains your quiet, Ser.”

A knock came at the door of the suite. “Your highness, your cousin would appreciate it if you could join them in the council chamber... as soon as it would be convenient.” The guard's voice sounded strained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	9. Changing the Subject

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders has a very cunning plan. Hawke is more doubtful as they travel through the countryside.

**Leaving Lothering**

**\- Hawke**

Coming back to Lothering wasn't really a mistake. No one recognized us. As Grey Wardens, we were respected and given a fairly wide berth. But I was glad to get out on the road again, even if our conversations were sparse and brief.

In Lothering I told Anders more about my father and Carver, and how we spent our summers and how we worried about our crops. Some years we weren't sure we'd get enough to feed the lot of us, especially with the way Carver was always hungry when he was shooting up. Some years we ran on the knife-blade, selling more... selling some of our winter stores as when we needed the money for Papa's elixirs before he died. I hunted to make up the difference, and another farmer was a lazy enough harvester that the deer fattened on his wasted crop. The deer honed my silence long before Dark Town. Dried venison helped through the winters.

While nothing terrible happened this time, Lothering wasn't my home anymore. Not without my family.

Anders was my family, betrothed and mad uncle all in one. I wasn't sure if he was still mad that I hadn't resisted my Joining more. I didn't want to start that argument again because I was not going to wave him goodbye for his Calling. And if we weren't able to have children because of his taint, it didn't really matter if I was tainted too.

It hadn't hurt our lovemaking, it just gave a bittersweet sheen to it. Family, fame, riches... I'd had them all. His urges to sacrifice himself couldn't change my taint now. I'd been reassured by his proposal, but he hadn't said much lately

Did I dream it? I'd had so many vivid dreams about Anders the first years. I'd hoped I might meet him in the Fade, but it never happened. Now I know he couldn't dream for those years. He dreamed now, mostly nightmares.

We decided against Kinloch, it was just too risky. The Wilds were just a little further than I really wanted to be from Bethany. I wanted us to stay in touch, as fragile as it had been. And if we went that far from our friends, we'd never know what happened to them during this war.

I twisted the signet ring around my finger. I'd considered ordering one in Kirkwall, but didn't see the point. I had no political power that I needed to seal anything. And the ones I'd acquired from combat seemed kind of sad, because I knew nothing about what they meant. This was an ace Varric gave me. Or it was too hot for him to keep, too?

Nothing was as hot as we were.

The old Tevinter Highway was curving away from the lakeside. We'd be leaving it soon to take a smaller road back north and east. Anders paused, shading his eyes as he looked toward the setting sun.

I didn't think he noticed that he was grinning, let alone humming. “That is a nice sunset, but you are in an awfully chipper mood for an empty stretch of road.”

His smile broadened as he turned back. “Anticipation can be half the fun, love. I want to get Trinna's eyes to roll all the way back when she sees me.”

“You sure you want to wear that skimpy outfit in public? It's not armor.” That was a completely different subject and it took a few seconds for me to change gears.

Anders ran his fingers up my arm. “Oh yes, love. She's not the _only_ one I want to scandalize. I may keep count.”

Mischievous Anders was unfamiliar to me. I carefully said, “One of us has to watch for trouble.”

“I played that game for years, love. I can certainly pretend it for an audience.” He draped himself over me and ended with his lips just barely grazing my ear. “I was never caught from this.”

When I turned to look at him, his Warden blues should have looked silly, but his eyes were more uncertain than his voice. “Anders, I really haven't paid attention, I don't even know how to play act what you suggested...”

“Pimp? Procurer? Mistress to your willing subject who needs your care? I can show the world how I adore you, love. Do what you want with me.” He spoke into my neck, teasing me even through my armor.

As much as I was holding him to be sure I stayed upright, I was a little annoyed. “You seducing me in public doesn't make me a pimp, unless I really don't know what they are.”

“Love, you're holding out for someone really, really rich and powerful. I'm quite talented and you've trained me well. You don't want anyone harming me or even scaring your frightened prize. And you are _expected_ to deal with any threat violently. Really, it _will_ be fun, and as far from Warden standoffish as we can get. And even further from rebel and abomination.”

Anders really liked this plan, but I wasn't quite convinced. Maybe it smacked too much of slavery, even if it was voluntary.

“Love...”

It didn't take him that much longer to get my agreement. So we talked about his plans as we traveled east. We kept stopping at most villages, often to ask about the Warden outpost as recent recruits.

Most people we met were getting more wary, especially of strangers. They all wanted news that we didn't have. Some seemed to be waiting, waiting to see what would happen. Fear, pragmatism, or reluctance to put their heads in a noose made them wait. It must stick in the Templar's craws that all of Thedas did not rise up to validate their crusade. Rumors about the mages had them simply throwing off Templar controls, but not massing to conquer anyone, maybe because there weren't that many mages. 

The Fereldans didn't rise up to help mages either, but _not_ helping Templars was a start that left Anders quietly smug between stops.

Almost no one we met had ever heard of the base. No wonder it was lost for so long. A merchant caravan we passed was the first time we got solid information. The merchant was a familiar face, and I thought we'd met him and his mabari outside Orzammar. Leond said his family kept a warehouse there and only their merchant clan and the Wardens visited the ruined keep high in the mountains.

His directions were detailed and we soon found ourselves in mountains that were snow covered for much of the year. Inside the long ruined outerworks, the keep itself was more intact than I would have expected from an inactive base. When we looked up from the switchback, the walls and gate were of a very old style, long before Orlesian additions.

The gate was open and the weeds and brush said it had been open for a long time. When we went through the outer wall and beyond a small courtyard, very steep steps rose up into the keep. Another courtyard off to the side had a few buildings, and most didn't look lived in. One looked like a large home or inn like we'd seen in Hallowdingle. I could hear a smith at work and turned in that direction. I'd swear that the smith looked just like Leond.

I went over to speak to the smith. “Is this Soldier's Peak? My senior Warden strongly suggested we come here.”

The smith put a great paw of a hand out for me to shake. “Mikhael Dryden. Glad to see some of you take an interest. The Warden doesn't send many here since she was made Arlessa. So we just have the one doing his research up in the tower.”

“I'm Brana, this is Heysal. I think another Warden or two will be coming before autumn, so keep an eye out for them. Any problems here with it being empty?”

“Nah. The mage asks for supplies and occasionally trades potions. When I have apprentices, they get to clean up the keep when they get above themselves.”

That kind of chore made me grin. “So what do you make here?” 

He showed me the great sword he was making, but I sold off a few things we still had. We didn't have to worry about tracking that we sold them and they would appear for sale again far away from us.

Despite the open gate, I felt fairly safe here.

_\-- x --_

**-Anders**

Northern Ferelden was rocky. I knew that. I hated the rocks and mountains, only partly smoothed by the Imperial Highway. That had not changed, and tavern rumors of other towers like Ostwick angered me. Cumberland and the Tower in Val Royeaux not being destroyed gave me hope. I didn't hear any convincing reports from other towers. Some were too confused to make sense, with Templars moving nobles around and a March fearing for Rivain. Had Sebastian been locked up in Orlais and marched back to Starkhaven under guard?

How strange.

The Tevinter army took territory from Nevarra while we were busy, the first they managed to regain since the Blessed Age. I had not wanted that to happen. They were no better than the Chantry. 

Here in Ferelden, I could openly carry a staff if I wore my Warden blues. They watched me, but seemed reassured when they saw the mabari, maybe even more when they saw the large kitten. When we reached the nearly empty Soldier's Peak, I was almost surprised that we got here safely.

Hawke was standing tall again as she spoke with the smith. I ignored them for the most part as I studied the keep. Siege damage was old and timeworn, but the broad stairs had been patched more recently. The harsh weather and mass of rock on these exposed mountains prevented all but the most aggressive plants. In the winter, Wardens posted here had little more than fighting and sex to stave off boredom.

Might be fun with Hawke, but there were many other Wardens who would not be as pleasant.

Hawke took my arm and looked up at me. “Ready to go in?”

I wanted to say no. I knew Avernus had done blood magic, but Trinna seemed sure that his researches would be more benign because _she_ ordered it.

How could she be so sure?

To Hawke, I said, “If anyone in the Wardens might explain more about that prison near Kirkwall or advise what else we should do, I'd go there instead of here. He is _the_ expert on the taint, too.” If there was any hope of curing Hawke, he might have it.

She wasn't worried and shrugged, so we climbed the steps. The huge door didn't look like it had somehow survived battering ram and siege, so it must be newer.

When we opened the door whispers of spirits reached my senses. It wasn't that I felt darkspawn or demons close by, but feeling other spirits was especially rare, even after Vengeance was banished.

I'd missed hearing those whispers since I fled the Vigil, but that was so minor with everything else. But here, a hard fought and bloody siege had not been sanded into a smooth parchment as new history overshadowed the spirits from those events. The remaining spirits seemed a little confused by our arrival.

We stepped inside a great entry hall with stone walls up to shoulder height and high arched space. It reminded me of the older parts of the Vigil. Arms hung on the wall and a single plaque near the door showed a touch of green verdegris. The timbers on the walls and ceiling made a fine home for spiders of the common size. Banners that only partly resembled modern arms hung down from the ceiling's cobwebs. Other than decorative and probably useless armor, the room was bare.

No one was there to greet us, so we cautiously continued up into a slightly smaller common room. This room had a smaller scale and resembled common rooms for Warden use. The only arms here were griffins or a very few of the Joining cup like we'd seen at Corypheus' prison. This commons was missing much in the way of books and oddiments we all found in the Deep Roads: the few shelves were empty.

Several doorways were clearly unused, and Hawke checked the double door that went to empty barracks and storage. Siege cellars would go deep into the stone, and I thought I could assume there was no Deep Roads entrance. Another broader set of doors went up, as rooms kept getting smaller between steeper stairs. The Chantry shrine had been dusted once, at least. 

Hawke studied the layout and carefully checked the closed doors on the landing. Several led into furnished quarters, waiting for the owner's return. 

A slightly grander one, with a carved griffin carved in the wood, led to an office. This room was not intact, and the desk had been destroyed in a fight.

Seeing where the Warden-Commander of an age past was a skin worn by a pride demon gave me a pang. It had been trapped here for so many generations.

Justice was silent, though present.

I took Dera's hand and pulled her close. “I don't how much I'm like her, love. I'd have to guess that at minimum, she was like Larius and did not go on her calling. How the demon fit in... Trinna wasn't sure either, but they killed it because she was an abomination and violent.

“That's why I thought she'd kill me after Kirkwall.”

Her arms holding me tight, she snarled. “It'd be a hard fight. You're _my_ mage.”

It made me smile. “You keep that up, and no one will get fresh with me when we leave here.”

Hawke looked up at me. “It is a little spooky in here.”

“It's a lot like the Vigil. Well, there was a distinct shortage of Templars and an even bigger shortage of darkspawn, so it's much more peaceful.” I wondered why I couldn't feel the taint of the blood mage. He should be easy to feel like Larius, maybe even like Corypheus. This felt like only an empty old outpost that waited for people to return.

Not completely empty, Ser Mew decided to chase a rodent.

We sat on the low shelf while Mew munched and Paws examined the hall. He seemed to like his new collar and harness. The basket for Mew was smaller, but much more stable for if we were expecting trouble. 

Beyond these quarters and a small supply room was a heavy door. It rattled a little in a mountain draft. I grew up in the Anderfels, but winter would be insanely cold in Fereldan mountains.

As soon as I opened the door into mountain summer, I could feel the taint on the other side of the bridge. 

Hawke was looking out away from the keep and the Waking Sea was visible from this height. I saw no road or path going down to a harbor but it probably grew over below the keep.

“Love, I can feel Avernus from here.”

She looked at me in surprise. “I can't, so I was wondering if he was still here.”

I took her hand. “He's there. Are you ready, love?”

“Should we tell him who we are?”

That made me laugh. “The Templars would kill any mage who managed to live through two ages. He is obviously very able to avoid trouble and keep his own secrets, in that we can trust him.”

Her smile was uncertain. “Maybe I'm a little paranoid after cottage-cheese-for-brains.”

“Trinna trusts him and I would really like to talk about some things we learned with an experienced mage with a deep knowledge.” I thought Bethany was a talented mage, but she wasn't hungry for her magic.

Hawke checked her armor and weapons, and then we walked across the bridge. She made a face and then knocked.

The taint came closer and I could see when Hawke felt him too. She dropped her hand from my grasp.

I wasn't going to argue that.

The door opened, and a balding man looked out at us. I was surprised, because he did not look like he was tainted that long, no more than other experienced Wardens and less than either Larius or Janneka.

In fact he seemed to have less taint than Jeanne-Maurice and Stroud had.

“I had not expected any other Wardens to visit me. Come in, come in.”

The chamber we entered seemed to have absorbed all of the books and tomes that were missing elsewhere, though I saw a few newer ones. 

He looked at us and then studied me more. “I was hoping for another visit from Commander Cousland. Is there a problem?”

“We're Wardens Hawke and Anders, we wanted to talk to you about the Warden Prison in the Vimmarks...” Hawke rattled this off a little nervously. “I mean no, not since we last saw her in Cloudreach. We want to deliver a report to her after we speak with you.”

Avernus settled on a bench. “I see. How many Wardens carry a demon as well as the taint? That would be very unstable as their magic is very different than the taint.

“I thought you were a blood mage.” I sat on a stool while Hawke sat nearby.

He just looked at me.

I grabbed Hawke's hand. “I'm the only Warden I know of, and yes, I have had problems.”

“Has it been subsumed? Which one made an offer you could not resist?” 

“Blood mage?” Hawke prompted.

“Oh, I will answer your questions as long as you answer mine. I make studies of the magic in blood, especially in the taint. I persuaded the Commander to modify the Joining recipe, reports are that deaths have been down in the last few years. I gave an experimental improvement to the Commander, but I did not get a proper report on its usefulness.”

Now that I had not heard from Trinna, and Avernus laughed. 

“Oh yes, your Commander is practical. She drank my best recipe, using the power of the taint from her own blood and not any further risk.”

“ _ **I am Justice. The mage cause demands justice.”**_

_ The Warden looked surprised at my appearance. Hawke started to let go and Anders protested. So I held on. _

“ _ **Does that satisfy your trade, Warden?”**_

“Quite. The three of us will speak. The only abomination I spoke to was unstable and dangerous to the King's men and Sophia's.” 

“ _ **I am not a demon, I am Justice.”**_

He shook his head. “If this not why you came, why did you come?”

_I looked at Hawke_ and let her speak.

“The criminal Carta were following the orders of a prisoner locked up in a forgotten Warden prison in the Vimmark mountains. Blood magic was used to renew the seals every generation, and my father made a deal to do their spell to buy help to escape Kirkwall so he and Mother could raise us. From what that prisoner said and records we found, he was one of the Magisters who invaded the Fade. His insane dreams filtered out to taint Kirkwall and anyone who came closer.”

Avernus turned to look at me sharply. “Were you the one in Kirkwall?”

I nodded. “We destroyed him, and we want to seal the Veil where it's so very thin. He was never moved when he was captured because he was too weakly held. Kirkwall, or Emerius,had to be where Magisters sundered the Veil and made those piles of bodies.”

This story caught his interest. “I thought that particular terror tale was only a Chantry whip. I may want to examine the site for myself.”

That idea made me shake my head at the same time as Hawke. “As soon as he got close to his freedom he was obsessed with breaking the Veil again. We think we killed him, but he might have possessed another blighted, a ghoul Warden-Commander. He might have gotten away. Even sealed away with a kind of blood magic and unaware, his influence drove the Warden guards insane and they came to believe such a heavily tainted was a tool we could use against the Blight. Wardens and mages were more quickly affected by his Fade dreams. The dwarven Carta were affected too.”

“And spirits,” Hawke added.

“That is an intriguing project, I also want to see how your taint had been affected by this Justice, and how the Joining's effectiveness has changed.” He rose and collected some journal books for notes.

I didn't think I'd taken his revised recipe.

I didn't learn as much as I hoped over the next few days. His taint had been slowed and kept him alive now. Avernus approved of our theories about Corypheus. He wanted to experiment on us, but needed our permission.

This didn't sound like the taint cure I was seeking for Hawke.

Late one night when Avernus had been questioning Justice about the Fade, we agreed this was the time to ask. Hawke was negotiating for some fresher food from Levi, the smith's cousin who arrived earlier in the day.

“ _ **Enough Warden. We must speak of another thing.”**_

Avernus looked up from his notes. “Really? You wish to speak with _me_ , spirit? Now what would interest a spirit? Enough that you do not want the Champion to know?”

_**We were irritated at his estimation,**_ _ **but the mage insisted we must speak to him now**_ _ **.**_

_ I didn't know how long I had until Dera came back. _

“She knows about this in general, but not that I plan to work on it now.” I didn't want her to be disappointed if I failed. This wasn't the kind of secret that gave Avernus a hold on me. “I've heard about Wardens having children if it was soon after their Joining and I want that for her. Something to delay her following me to my Calling.”

With a snort, Avernus laughed. “That would require I work with blood from her and I must have permission to use any blood but my own for experiments now. The Warden-Commander is quite firm on that.”

“Does that mean it is possible?”

“I have mastered slowing the progression of the taint and harvesting power that burns in the blood. What extends tainted like Corypheus through more ages is a larger question, but I cannot be sanguine about his insanity.” His smile was superior. “I really wish you had taken samples when you killed him.”

_That we would not have allowed._ “Some taints like red lyrium are not neutralized by smelting, and they cannot be used without spreading insanity.”

His look of interest got sharper and frustration appeared. “Another topic. Cousland has not been providing me enough news on magic.”

That made _me_ laugh this time. I'd seen the book on his shelf and did not even open it. “What, you didn't read that copper dreadful about 'Exploring Her Deep Roads,' when you got it? Varric included too many true details in his stories.”

The dismay on his face was almost worth Hawke's ire if she saw it.

“That was true, not some fabrication for the story?”

I wasn't grinning at the book. “Well, I don't know where he got his romance scenes, but that many glowing candles would have started a fire on the one cover I saw. He makes up a lot, but many events, phrases... locations are more correct.” 

After reading two and seeing more in the shops, I wasn't sure Varric wasn't nursing a deeper affection for Hawke than I realized.

“I will need samples of her blood and yours... then I will see what potential there is.”

I knew that was possible even if it bothered me. I kept telling myself I wasn't affecting anyone else. “Do it, just not the wrists. I'm not looking for suicide.”

He took several vials. Carefully, because my death would not stop Justice if he screwed up.

Hawke arrived as he was considering the last vial. “Anders, what are you doing?” She got angry, as 'disliked blood magic' was an understatement.

I healed myself.

“I wished to study the progression of the taint. I believe his Joining might be different than my own, and my studies to improve the Wardens' lives under the taint are ongoing. I need more subjects to make any progress. I can say your partner's taint has already advanced much less than I would expect from the years.”

That was new to me. “Really? Is it because I'm a healer?”

“That is only a matter of degree. Many mages can heal, at least a little. I suspect it is more from the spirit... or something else that happened to you. It reminds me more of how even Sophia's corpse, when animated had not decayed and part of her remained. It is too bad that more of her had not.” Avernus showed more regret than at other times.

I bent over, memories of seeing Justice just when he woke up in Kristof's body. I could not feel any taint on him, but I thought that was because I was still a new Warden and I had not felt it on Cousland either, almost until she left the Vigil. I had been alarmed at how that body had degraded in just the weeks I had been at Kinloch. I decided to tell Avernus. “I'm not sure, but he could have had less taint after a time.”

“I told you that the taint and... spirit energy was antithetical.” Avernus was cross to be saying it again.

“ _ **I do not approve of darkspawn. That was my first purpose when I was exiled.”**_

Avernus was silent for a moment. 

Hawke said, “I wouldn't suggest forcing another spirit to live outside the Fade. So you think Anders is more likely to last longer before his Calling?”

“Maybe, but there are no guarantees once we are Wardens. I might teach him the magic that I used, but I doubt you believe it comes from no demon's bargain, only long experimentation.”

No, blood magic uses life to make death and destruction. It uses the victim's or mage's own lifeblood to attack. Even using it to tempting to die on the ecstasy of that wave of magic. I was certain that was what caused the deaths of desperate mages like Trask's daughter. Power became its own comfort and joy in empty lives and blood fed that like a narcotic. Caught up in raw power, they couldn't hold on to their lives and blood loss helped kill them. Even their lives held no value to them, nor their tormenters'. 

This was different, like taking an extract from a herb or tincture of a metal to heal or strengthen. So it was healing too. “I do not want to outlast Hawke's Calling.”

“Fine, then. I gave enough blood to stop Corypheus, what's a little more?” Hawke snarled.

The old Warden was smart enough to not verbally gloat.

We didn't see him for some days and I browsed the library with Mew's assistance. Then Avernus' explanations lost Hawke completely and me more than I wanted to admit.

He produced a couple of potions that were a more opaque shade of red than blood.

I was reluctant to drink it, even though this was at my request.

Glaring at us, Avernus snapped. “This is made from your own blood. That needed grit to survive your Joining isn't needed now. I can give you the list of components, but it won't say much.”

“I would like that recipe, the distillation is one I would like to understand.” I scanned the ingredients and some were surprising but nothing was immediately fatal before the process.

“Love...” I drank my vial in one draft.

It wasn't as bad as the Joining cup,

By much.

I didn't pass out, but I could feel it as it spread out, and I had to resist trying to cure it as my stomach churned.

Hawke seized me in her arms, and I heard her whispering endearments to me. 

I turned to face her and stare into her eyes. Instead I pulled her face close for a desperate kiss as the acid spread.

_ Was I dying? _

Slowly my breathing became easier and I pulled back.

Hawke spat. “Maker, that is vile.”

The other mage looked bemused. “I wonder if a Joining can happen second-hand like that?”

I really, really didn't care right then.

“Oh, go ahead and drink yours, Warden. That raises some other possibilities I will have to consider for my future research, and I will contact you to visit that prison, perhaps next year. I include notes on effects for earlier subjects, Anders. I hope you will be more forthcoming when you note any similarities or differences. _You_ should understand the need for detail in these studies...”

When Hawke looked at him doubtfully, I had second thoughts about not telling her of my request. This should be a happy surprise. I didn't have to hide my worry when she gulped from her vial.

She curled into a fetal position before forcing herself to uncurl. I could see a spasm move across her belly and my guilt threatened again.

Her eyes glazed. So I took a deep breath and kissed her, worrying that she would relax into slack as she passed. 

But she relaxed in a more normal fashion and we held each other for a moment.

“I sure hope it helps, Anders. I'd hate for your Calling to start tomorrow.”

Running my fingers through her wavy and shorter hair. “We have time, love.”

“Yes, you have time, Wardens. You should be able to avoid the decay noted in that other Warden-Commander. Please send me reports _more_ often than Commander Cousland does.” Avernus' eyes were closed as he seemed to be studying the flow of his potion. When he was done, we no longer held his interest as he began collecting references and ignoring us.

Hawke looked over at the mage and shook her head. “I think he's done with us, Anders. Is there more you want to do here?”

I looked at the library and considered if any would add to my own studies or report for the Commander. “I think it would be safe for a time, but I think we should move on.”

She stood up and reached for me to stand, and we returned to the main keep to make a last check for equipment or supplies from the traders. Hawke knew I was ambivalent about returning to the Vigil, despite our joking. 

Nathaniel had been at Kirkwall, so he saw what Meredith became. He and Attryne had been thick as thieves back at the Vigil. Well, once they got over Nathaniel sneaking in and wanting to kill Cousland. Nathaniel was her heir and second in command, last I heard... not that I'd heard of any major problems at the Vigil from him.

Would I hear, even in Kirkwall? Howe, Alistair, and Stroud knew where I was. Would they have called me back? Would I have gone if I heard about another Architect?

_** We would. ** _

Yes, I would have, unless we were neck deep in an emergency. I would worry about Hawke, and she probably would have insisted in coming along, and that would have been an argument. I would probably have given in and been secretly happy that she came. The Vigil was my first home as a free man.

  
  



	10. Captain Isabela's log: Doldrums on the Waking Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early summer and Isabela gets bored without company.

**_ T _ _ he Sea Cockerels _ ,  Two Marks east of Alamar **

** -I ** ** sabela **

_** 2  ** ** Justinian: ** _

I don't like this.  It's summer, so I expect it to be dull, dull, dull. Even  Denerim is hot  despite how south it is .  We're  not even  in the summer doldrums  yet , but ship s are hiding somewhere .  Even the fishing vessels are huggin g the coast,  if I s pot them at all. 

Made some money ferrying some dwarves over to Kirkwall. It was a short haul and all they wanted was secrecy.  T he talkative female spoke a lot without revealing much.  They might be Wardens, since they didn't try to sell me anything.  E ven Varric will sell you a story . They didn't pay with much coin, but the gems and rings  they traded  were worth the effort.

C rew's wanting to take another prize, but  most ships are  in  caravans.  Too many dancers and not enough booty. I won't lose the  my ship because I was blind to the boil on my bum. 

The  _ Cockerels _ is putting in at Cumberland  tomorrow if the wind holds.  S he's  a  nimble enough  minx in  weak winds .  Our spec c argo  i s spr ing delicacies and Cumberland's in summer. Good profit on top of  our  sealed cargo.

The whiskey will be for me when I make port.

High sun, and lookout spots another ship,  an Orlesian corvette . It turns to us and I order the crew on alert. They  _ might _ be friendly...

… And I might a princess of Old Orlais.

She drops her colors,  and puts up new ones to me. The other crew are enthusiastic about taking my ship, but my crew are old salts.  They were not.

Now this is the part I like, looting the prize. 

Only a handful surrendered, and there's no fugitives or prisoners.  I always have Caz, with his  dark and  sexy and gorgeous face, hone his blades as he questions them. The stubborn ones, he gives a shave while they try not to move. 

It's such a laugh when he asks about hidden panels and cargo.

They talk, sooner or later.  If t hey want to join the crew, they're on probation until their hair grows out enough. Cooperative dogs keep more hair. Some may even keep it short  after becoming full crew .

I have two ships. I pretend I may switch to the Orlesian ship just for the shoes, but I'll have volunteers to crew her. I could let them name it, but naming it and future favors are good enough.

Never can have too many men owing me favors.

_ \--  x -- _

_** 9 Justinian: ** _

Let that be a lesson for future voyages. Don't count on having any fun in Cumberland even with a come hither expression and a small keg. The keg outlasts the party. Brawls and lectures are boring.

Maybe Orlais will be more fun and more profitable.

_ \--  x -- _

** 2 Solas: **

My favor list grows longer and harder with every cast off, and I am exceedingly please d to cast Val Chevin in the wake of  this fine lady with the generous and soft bos o ms... er, sails would be the better word, would it not?

Ah, yes. Val Chevin has little changed despite skirmishes between the fair Empress' forces and  h er rebellious nobles. There will be war and a rather handsome old friend  warned me in port that...

Braska! That is a ridiculous ploy to make me lose...  though perhaps I am  the one  winning . Where was I? 

Crew watch for ships on the horizon, but none  approach the sleek beauty of our vessel. Cargo that is unexciting may be in our future and officers must needs to hang their heads in shame.

My punishment for disrupting the log again was to act  _ only _ as clerk to record re c ent events and cease to...You vixen.  You failed to mention that part of the wa..ger.  I sincerely hope that the fair captain will be amused when she reads this. I almost could find it in myself to feel neglected that she did not mention that the master lover Zevran was sailing on her fine vessel this voyage. 

But I do not feel neglected presently. I am quite sure 'Bela is attending to my... every need. What else did she wish recorded before I won my victory? We are bound for Jader and then Brandel's Reach, to meet her allies. One ship, no matter how able her captain, cannot defeat a swarm of ships. Captain Isabela would be put out if she must haul wheat and fleece again, no matter how fine they are as cargo or as bedding.

They are boring, are they not?

She said that profits will come ba... That was a clever ploy, my dear. My turn. 


	11. Rumpus at the Vigil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders is a little uneasy at the prospect of returning to the Vigil years after what he and Justice did.

** Ferelden Bannorn, on the road to the Vigil **

**-** **Anders**

As we left the old Warden base for the Vigil, I got more uneasy about returning. What if other Wardens were more devout, more sympathetic to the Templar cause? I knew more was involved than my hatred for the Chantry, but was Alistair's opinion more popular or Trinna's? I tried to hide my nerves by being more cheery, but I caught myself going a little overboard when talking to one handsome merchant.

Hawke was kind enough not to say anything, though she stayed close and more quiet in her Warden armor.

I wasn't complaining. I liked her wearing that armor made in a lost style, and spent many hours watching the way it hugged her body closely.

Justice didn't approve of my distraction and threatened to take control several times.

Instead, I asked her something more legal and... just, which quieted him. “Love, maybe we can find a Sister to marry us at the Vigil? Maybe we can do it quietly without any notice.”

Hawke smiled, her eyes lighting with something softer than the Grey Warden hardness and pragmatism. “Anything, anytime, Anders.”

I looked into her eyes, warm and green with life and a kind of relief. “I don't know what I'm doing, love.”

“I never really asked Papa how he and Mother got married... and then I didn't want to put any more pressure on you.”

Vengeance would not have appreciated further distractions from his goals, and Justice didn't like distractions either. I didn’t think I could have held on as well without Hawke and her resistance to Corypheus' mind affecting magic. “That wasn't pressure, love. You were a shield against Corypheus and Vengeance. Justice's approval of marriage was the big surprise.”

Hawke chuckled. “Marriage has rules and traditions for what's allowed, what's not, and what fair remedies exist.”

I stopped on the dusty road, with other travelers and wagons in sight. “Marriage isn't only justice, it's love and lust and...” The logical and rational arguments weren't enough and I had to feel her warmth against me. She was life and light and even the stuffed hawk that Merrill suggested and I held her a little desperately close. I _would_ marry her despite everything the Chantry said about mages' rights, the light that kept me sane through Kirkwall and that idiot prison. Even marriage wasn't enough.

But it was more

“Anders?” Dera spoke against my chest.

“Yes, love?”

“Can we get something to eat?”

Then I felt the rumble from her stomach and had to smirk. “I am feeling peckish.” I nibbled at her ear.

Dera stepped away, but held my hand for a moment. “Anders, that stuff was vile, earlier. I want to buy some mint, if you don't have any.”

I grinned as I was looking forward to making some particular purchases. “Yes, I'm hope a merchant in the next town we find might have something for my disguise.”

Hawke looked at me with suspicion. “What's that?”

“Perfume, the most awful stuff we can find. If they don't sell any bad enough, I can mix two random scents that are strong.” I hoped they might have that honeysuckle scent Dera used to wear as well.

She wasn't as amused as I hoped. I decided to outdo Jethan back in Kirkwall. I was fairly certain he'd been her lover when I'd been stupid, but I'd never asked. Bethany was snide enough in her complaints at the time.

The only thing that had saved my feelings was that he was nothing like me. If she'd become a regular with Cosomo at _The Rose_ , who was tall, fair, and very, very attractive, I would have done something very, _very_ stupid.

“Do we need anything else?” Hawke was checking over her few remaining grenades and poisons.

I frowned. “We always need lyrium, and some of the stronger potion ingredients have ingredients I haven't seen since we left Kirkwall. I think the Vigil gets the safer blue lyrium from Ka'Hirol.” I started on my list.

Hawke drummed her fingers on the case she kept most of her breakables in. “Is there someone who could teach me more about poisons and grenades at the Vigil? Lady Elegant and Tomwise gave me a discount, enough that I don't know how to make much myself.”

“The Commander made most of the same when I was there, and she may have texts. I wasn't paying much attention then, love. I was enjoying being allowed to go out and meet anyone I liked.”

“And bedding them?” Dera smirked at me as she started to walk.

I was glad she could joke about it. “I thought I'd be discreet about saying it, love. Alistair was off with a commission for a monument, so she learned to make healing potions for when the Circle mage was away. Now that I think of it, she made similar biscuits for Mouser too. That really annoyed the Weisshaupt watchdog, who wanted the Commander training or playing politics. The Grey Wardens sent the... I supposed she was supposed to take care of things like Bodahn, but she was as annoying as a darkspawn because she thought politics was more important than survival.”

We entered a town in South Reach and I forgot its name as fast as I heard it, but it had a herbalist who had the scented oils I wanted. I found honeysuckle for Hawke among them.

There were common scents of flowers and spices and one that smelled like autumn leaves just this side of rotten. I could have picked any three of the stronger ones and let the scents fight it out like one of Oghren's drunken brawls. But a dustier bottle was marked as 'Patchouli Whore' and I had to smile as I opened the stopper.

It was perfect and should have been required in every brothel, because it was the scent of sin and lust. “How much for the bottle?”

The herbalist's face paled behind his beard and his blue eyes were offended. “Ser Warden, that scent is not pleasant in quantity. We only sell it in small portions.”

I waved a shrug. “I'm using this for a prank and maybe in the Deep Roads. Anything smells better than down there.”

He named a price in sovereigns and I didn't haggle too much because I wanted to tell Sebastian someday where we spent his money. The merchant seemed much happier with the scent I found for Hawke.

That night in our camp I tried on my costume and used much too much of the patchouli blend. My arms and chest were nearly bare, covered in light and fluttering orange and red fabrics that hid my scars. The oil gave my skin a nice shine too on top of the scent. Hawke looked like she wanted to laugh.

I shook my finger at her and spoke in an Orlesian falsetto like Jethan. “No, no. I am quite the talented artisan, I have recommendations from here to Gwaren. You don't have to doubt my skills in pleasure... only in my ability to run up debts.”

“I don't doubt your skills, but won't this draw attention?” Hawke was shaking from trying to not laugh.

Moving closer, I put my arm around her. “Yes, but I will have their attention and then they will dismiss me as a threat. They will dismiss you too. You will be understood to be dangerous, but not a threat to others in general. Besides, isn't this similar to your dress in Kirkwall in spring when we were looking for Varric? But you need armor to fight and I don't. Is whore and pimp that different from your earlier idea of Chanter, except that _you_ can be armed to the teeth?”

“I don't like it that much. We can go as Wardens.”

I didn't want to be roped back into regular duty, as much as I respected some Wardens there were other important causes. “I'm done with obsession, even about darkspawn. Some at the Vigil know me personally, but we need to report about Corypheus to Trinna _before_ Varric's book reaches her.”

“Oh, Maker.” Hawke laughed and shook her head.

“Besides, it might be fun, I don't have to be serious all the time. No one would believe I could be serious when I was there. I kept busy in other ways.” I slid my arm lower in a caress.

Hawke flushed when my smile sank in.

“Oh yes, love, I'm going to be a _very_ naughty boy, desperate for some relied for my hungers. You blush pretty for a procurer who's going to be _very_ wealthy some day.”

There went another flush.

When we left our camp in the morning, it was cooler without my armor. The road was slowly dropping to sea level at Amaranthine, and we were entering into summer, the cooler summers of Ferelden. Once out of the hills we bought a pack horse to carry our gear. 

Paws enjoyed herding it.

I draped myself over Hawke, and added a small metal collar after I'd convinced both Hawke and Justice it was only an act. Few looked at me for long, except with distaste. The others wanted my services at a discount.

The inns were the best, where I feigned greed for a wealthy patron and extreme pickiness. The indenture for my debts was unstated but immense. The flirting was like a rusted tool, but got easy again for me, and we attracted a crowd.

Not all were looking for sex and that was so easy to play with. A few made offers to help me escape from my keeper. Some were more serious and made offers to Brana for my services. 

I didn't really want that, but I demonstrated some skills on the milder people as samples until Brana put a stop to that. Then Hawke and I made up every night in our room, loudly.

I didn't want to think about how Paws wagged his tail at me.

We passed Sisters and Brothers, and even squads of Templars on the road. I hung all over Hawke and acted the sluttiest whore. With a pout, I flirted with the young Brother and even the Templars. 

Justice nearly had a fit and Hawke was very watchful, as she held Ser Mew in the evenings.

The Sister wanted to travel on, but the Templars were trying to get Hawke to drop my price. It was almost a fair rate, the same as the select list at the _Rose_ , but these Templars didn't have it, even among them.

When the Sister moved ahead, the one threatened violence and accusations attempted theft because they could not afford me. I remembered the secretive Templars in Kirkwall at the Rose, who never could see the more expensive whores. One tried to intimidate Hawke, shoving her back with a threat. Hawke took him down with minimal bloodshed and I forced myself to act scared. I worried, even if it must have been only seconds.

Hawke kicked the downed one and glared at the remaining Templar. She snarled, “Got any more plans to dispute my business?”

“No, he should have known better. I'll look for your boy at the _Pearl_ when you can't find your patron for the big payoff. This isn't Orlais.” This female was little like Rylock or Alrik in contempt and superiority, she just let the other hot-head get slapped down and avoided getting hurt.

I gave her an air kiss and pouted again. I should have tried harder not to smirk. Justice noted the lyrium, fresh in her blood, even if he was only irritated.

Hawke glared too at the rest of us. “He's destined for a noble's service as long as his indenture lasts.”

When they had moved on, I took Hawke's hand. “You're the only noble I want the service, love.”

She pulled my face down for a possessive kiss. “Remember that, Ser mage.” 

As travelers got more common, more ignored me. Their slurs didn't bother me that much either. They had no idea what I was.

We reached the Vigil, where the duty guards were from the Amaranthine Silver Order like I remembered. These younger guards at the door looked at me doubtfully as Hawke tried to explain to the lieutenant that she had business with Howe.

This act could not pass if Wardens were on gate duty as they would know we weren't what we appeared.

I flirted, fluttering my lashes and using a jaded Orlesian accent that maybe a third of the whores in Denerim aped. The same accent they lost in private. “I do hope that I have some free time once I am done with Messer Howe to spend with such _handsome_ soldiers.”

The lieutenant said, “Senior Warden never said he... I mean, that he doesn't ever...”

“I'm special,” I told the lieutenant, running my fingers up over his shoulders. “He never did manage to wear me out in the dark before.” What made this funny was that we weren't lying, the Dark Roads were never a place I slept easily.

“The Acting Commander will deal with this, Rennd.” A Warden arrived and interrupted my fun. He glared and frogmarched me to the main keep with Hawke protesting about damaging the merchandise.

I looked around and saw the statue of Andraste in the courtyard had been replaced and put in a slightly different location. 

The stranger Warden seemed surprised when I stopped letting him drag me, and led the way once we were inside. Hawke was silent now.

Before we crossed the main hall, I heard, “Sparkle-fingers! Yer not wearing your man-skirt, even if you're all pretty like a sissy-girl instead of a Warden. You brought your skinny ass back here after you stuck it into the lava.”

I'd managed to forget Oghren's charms, yet here he was with a few gray hairs in his beard now. “I can blame everything on the swill I drank with you, but the Baroness left me a present when she pushed us out of the Fade.”

The dwarf looked at Hawke with a gleam in his eye. “You always were a dirty little mage. How'd you get this long-limbed goddess? And a Warden too, I'd like to pray for her her blessings every day.”

Hawke grinned with a nasty edge. “I'd sooner shave every hair off your carcass, cover you in honey... and drop you into a full nug pen... or ant-hill. I can't decide.”

Oghren laughed. “You got yourself a spitfire. Didn't think you had it in you. We'll have to get drunk and trade stories about how much time he spends on his dresses now. This one's better than some he used to wear, even if he still has a cat.”

Maybe them meeting wasn't such a good idea. I said, “I need to report a mission to Nathaniel and Trinna, is she here?”

“No, she's in Denerim for Landsmeet again. She was het up about her brother when she stopped in. You can find her there, destroying her target range when she ain't prettied up and kissing arses.” Oghren was still eying Hawke. He liked taller women.

“We can't stay long, the Warden prison outside Kirkwall held another darkspawn like the Architect.”

Oghren stopped smiling and finished his mug. “That I want to hear about.”

The Vigil Commander's office door was shut, but the Warden who'd been at the gate followed us now.

I wondered what he'd guessed.

Howe bade us to enter and blinked in surprise at seeing us. “Anders, Hawke, what are you doing here?”

Not that I was sure if my costume was part of his annoyance, so I spread out the fabric to display it better. “So, what do you think, Nathaniel. Is this me?”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It might be an improvement in some ways, Anders. This is not a good place for you to stay long. There hasn't been much open fighting here as the Queen has made her edicts to both factions. You will stir the pot that Trinna wants calm.”

That sobered me and I noticed that the newer Warden was realizing who we were. “I'm not planning to make trouble. I can give you a fuller version later with some ale. But some Carta were looking for the Hawkes for blood magic to release one of the Magisters, fully tainted from when they invaded the Fade. His mad blood-magic dreams affected Wardens, Carta, and even nearby Kirkwall. _Wardens after the first Blight thought they could tame him._ ”

“Thunderhumpers!” Oghren guffawed and gave Nathaniel one of his mystery grog flasks.

Howe looked cross when he stopped coughing. “That never works, from all the records I've seen.”

“Our father was the last mage to strengthen the binding, for our freedom. It would have fallen soon,” Hawke said in a sad little voice. “Anders also forgot to mention that the madness was worse for mages and Wardens as a group.”

“Later, love. Trinna needs to know because the Wardens nearby were deluded so badly and attacked other Wardens. It was a mess and we have copies of journals and records for the archive. Trinna needs to know because it affected minds of Wardens and non-Wardens even in Kirkwall while Corypheus was bound there,”

“Did that contribute to what you...?” Nathaniel asked with a frown.

“It didn't help and probably influenced what happened. Larius looked like Justice had at the end, if you remember. But the Magister's dead and the Warden Commander who arranged the binding thirty years ago almost seemed to have recovered from his Calling. But he started talking like he was the Magister and we would not let him go. The Magister's magic was very different than mine, and he was fully tainted like any darkspawn. Too many lives and uprisings were spent on the losing bet on taming him.”

Nathaniel sighed. “Write it up tomorrow and we'll send copies around to other Warden Commanders if Cousland approves.”

“Better hurry,” I warned him. “The writer, Varric Tethras, will probably write a book about it. So it can't stay secret.”

“Maker.” Nathaniel was praying this time.

Oghren snickered. “Well, that should make for some nice lust in the dust. I'll have to order copies. You said Tethras?”

Nathaniel rubbed his forehead again. “Anything else, Anders?”

Well, it looked like Trinna had already told him about Hawke's Joining, because he didn't say anything about Hawke.

I wanted a third headache pang before I healed him. “Well, I proposed. Do you know of a Sister who might marry us, under fake names if our real ones are a bad idea?”

Nathaniel was surprised, but Oghren was nearly rolling on the floor. “Oh, she's got your balls in a vise. _Don't do it!_ Take it from someone who knows! Soon you'll have a nug in the oven and you'll never be allowed any fun or drink again. You still didn't drink me under the table like you bet you could last time.”

Nathaniel assigned us one of the larger visitor rooms and few faces in the hall were familiar, but that was all. Dinner became a party for our coming wedding. Telling about the basics to all the Wardens about Corypheus and the prison lasted after dinner, but the party lasted deep into the night, requiring many strong drinks. 

Justice was quiet, so Oghren and I started our drinking after we ate. Hawke fielded more questions about our visits to the Deep Roads and other tales of the lost thaig, our recent Provings, and the Arishok battle. Some seemed disapproving, but Wardens respected results more than any dogma.

My head was spinning later and Oghren didn't make as much sense as his usual bite. I didn't mind that much. I insisted my future wife sit with me or on me to mock Oghren's interest in her. Dera didn't drink as much as we did, she talked more to Nathaniel and unfamiliar Wardens Taldain and a young mage named Rayder. 

Rayder tried to shake my hand off, he was one of the mages we rescued near Orzammar.

I was trying to stay coherent, but the party kept getting hazier as others passed out or went to bed. I don't remember when the ale won, but I dimly woke when Hawke supported me through the hall to our room.

“D-did I outlast Oghren, love?” I couldn't settle my stomach enough to cast anything to help me.

“Yes and no, don't worry about it.” The smile in her voice was clear.

A belch left me less settled from the flavor, so I closed my eyes and let her lead. “You're a good leader, love. My geat never hits a beam and I don't trip on my face like this.”

She paused and coughed before she said, “Thanks.”

When we reached the door, I swung around to embrace her. “I love you, love. Maybe Howe knows a Sister! I want to be married to you.”

“Let's get to bed first.”

“Fine.” I wanted to get to bed fast, before I got too drowsy.

Morning came too fast after that, and Wardens pulled us out of bed and told us to wash and put on our uniforms... _now_ _._ Oghren smelled soused again when he yanked us out of our room, but he shoved us up to Garavel of the Silver Order, standing at the front of the Hall. 

I remembered Varel standing there with the Joining Cup and shuddered at the memory. He was long dead now, and Garavel was the only non-Warden present.

Not sure what was happening, I looked at a grinning Hawke standing next to me. Oghren and Garavel argued about something for a few minutes in whispers. When I looked around, everyone was in good clothing or uniforms and had cheerful expressions.

Hawke's eyes were only a little bloodshot, but her lips twitched. “You were rather insistent about the wedding last night. There was singing, bad singing at that, very late.”

I didn't remember that.

_** I do. ** _

Justice sounded satisfied and I began to suspect. _Was this your doing?_

_** You spoke to her, she agreed. What reason is there to delay? ** _

_ We didn't speak with Hawke about what she wanted! What if she wanted a ceremony and dress like Aveline had? _

_** She didn't speak against it and the dwarf began to weep for his weddings. Several of the Wardens said uniforms are acceptable for weddings. You both have uniforms. ** _

“I'm sorry, Hawke. I didn't realize Justice would get so enthused about this...”

Brushing my cheek, she said, “It was rather sweet. A couple of them noticed the change in your eyes and shook their heads. They couldn't quite combine a 'near abomination' and a wedding.”

I wanted to shake my head at that, too. “I remember the drinking after we ate and telling Nate about the prison.”

“Oghren wanted to get Justice drunk or something, and Justice spoke to him. I missed it. They were excited about the idea of a wedding. Oghren got tearful about someone named Felsi and he started making plans while we were talking to Howe about the prison.”

“How do you know this?” _How long was I out?_

“Oghren woke me early to see if we needed uniforms and then let me pass out again from his stench. Do you mind, honey? We can stop if this is too fast.”

I put my arms around her and thrust my hips against her with a tingling shock through us both. I kissed her, remembering my need and want, the sweetness of her lips and softness of her hips in that bleak moment at my clinic, She brought light to me again and again... never, never would I not want to be with her.

I needed her to believe that.

Dera's neck was warm and soft, her pulse racing like mine and my hands slid down past her waist to pull her closer, to say with my lips and body how much I wanted this. I ignored the armor for the softness I knew was inside.

Finally the whooping and laughter came to my attention and I paused long enough that Dera froze too. I let her back down onto the stone floor and grinned. “I don't think anyone minds. Do you want to ask them?”

The comments were cheerful and missing the edge of too many events in Kirkwall. Maybe I could be happy here... as long as I had Hawke.

A former Sister began to speak, but the words weren't as important as the fact we were marrying, something I never thought would be mine.

When we were pronounced married, I wanted to fly. Swooping for our first married kiss, I felt like my heart would burst and the room exploded in light from all directions.

I was married, today, not a hundred years from now. This was my freedom, like what every mage should have.

Hawke was mine. I was Hawke's.


	12. The Tower Rebels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian must own up to irregular things to Ser Jayne, and decides to make a difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could be difficult because of violence.

**Starkhaven, the Prince's Council**

**Sebastian Vael:**

My conversation with Jayne ended with the stark tones of the castle guard. I looked at Jayne, alarmed at what disaster could have happened during our pleasant interlude. My  ' leisure ' did  n ot bode well, only that we weren't under direct attack.

I hurried to dress presentably  for a formal appearance . In moments,  we left for the  Council room where my cousin  received his reports and ordered what his senior officials should do. My father and grandfather ruled in the same way .

Ser Jayne walk ed a step behind and to the left, ready to  rush and  intercept any  sudden threat. I noticed the other guards along ou r path were alert, and th ose at the chamber entrance had weapons bared. The captain gave a gimlet eye to Jayne in her Templar armor, but they let us in. Jayne was the only guard aside from  Cousin Goran 's personal guard.

“We called you to this meeting because of your experiences in Kirkwall, cousin.” Goran looked pale and tired, maybe even strained. This wasn't the time to ask about his betrothal plans. 

I took a seat at the table while Jayne took a stance against the wall away from the other guards. I could see these maps were of the city and the original plans for rebuilding the Circle Tower, marked for Mother Cithol. “How can I be of help, cousin?”

“The mages have shut off the Tower and have barricaded themselves in, claiming that the Knight Commander just assigned is... unacceptable. The senior Enchanter has said they do not wish trouble or to reject the Chant, but Duarn is not allowed inside.” Mother Cithol was angry, but the target was not clear.

Goran's voice was not strong. “He demands they open up, upon pain of annulment and Tranquility for all. We do not want a repeat of Kirkwall here in Starkhaven, cousin Sebastian.” 

“Has the Commander acted beyond his threats?”

Hartovan growled his annoyance. “No. The Templars who had been tricked outside ried battering it, but the gate was more sturdy than Duarn expected.”

Andraste help us, I did not want to repeat Kirkwall. I looked at Jayne, and her face was paler than it should be. Then I realized she might have been close to the other Templar guards I had dismissed. “Ser Jayne, do you know Commander Duarn?”

She stood at attention. “No, Ser. I know that Starkhaven was a small post and not expected to need a full Knight Commander until reconstruction had finished. There was some competition for the post among Knight-Captains eager to advance. It would have been a Knight Captain, who _might_ be promoted to Commander. As there has never been any unrest since the dissolution and razing of the old Tower, Starkhaven was not a posting... expected to produce promotions.”

Mother Cithol took interest in Jayne. “So you are not assigned under his command?”

Jayne showed the hint of a scowl. “No, Revered Mother. I was assigned my current duties by the Knight Vigilant himself. I can be called upon for an immediate emergency, but Duarn is not who I report to.”

That  g ave me a pang.  _To what extent did her duties cover? Had I betrayed others for the pleasures of the flesh?_

“I am content that we can consult with your expertise in this crisis, Ser Jayne.” Goran, at least, was satisfied that Jayne was not in Starkhaven's chain of command. “What do you know of the Commander? Is he a mature leader? Is he resolute as he should be in this time of crisis?”

“I believe he was promoted to Commander only a month or two ago. He was made Knight Captain after the mages rebelled and were revealed as blood mages. As there was room in nearby towers for surviving mages and building a new tower had been delayed, he continued as a Knight Captain since then.” Jayne sighed. “I only met him briefly in Val Royeaux a few years ago.”

Hartovan finally spoke again with a commanding snap to his voice. “Forget rank. Is he a leader? Is he a good son of Andraste and the Chantry?”

Her coloring back to its warm brown, Jayne sighed. “I did not speak with him on any significant matter, but I do not like him.”

“Then it seems clear that he may not have the skill or diplomacy that smooths relations with other leaders.” Lord Reynord reset his formal Council amulet to the precise center. “As such, we must prepare for the worst. Mages may join with the rebellions in Kirkwall, Ostwick, or even Minrathus, bringing destruction to our city.”

I felt I had to add to this. “The mages have not threatened anyone, have they?”

Mother Cithol interrupted me. “They are refusing Chantry oversight that is for their own protection. Starkhaven will not be the start of a return to the days of Magister rule and the worship of false gods.”

“Revered Mother, the Late Beloved Elthina taught _me_ the importance of listening, even for the least sparrow.” I looked at most of the council, and they were worried or outraged. “I will go speak to them and discover if this is a petition or a rebellion, and try to make a peaceful solution. I want Starkhaven to shine as the _best_ in Andraste's children.”

There was some murmuring. I received the impression that they expected I would call for slaughtering them all in memory of the Grand Cleric Elthina because some were refugees from Kirkwall. Any mages in the Starkhaven Circle had no onus for what Anders did, punishing them was...not right.

That made me smile for an instant. “I will go and speak with them, and then we will have a clearer view of this unrest.”

I nodded to my cousin and he seemed relieved at my proposal. Hartovan told us he was placing the guard on full alert and calling back any on leave. I wasn't needed for this so left the Council Chamber.

We could not afford to delay, so I nearly ran back to the diplomatic suite I had been assigned. I would appear in my proper armor and armed, even to speak with the mages.

Back in the suite and past a newly-posted palace guard, Jayne swung my shoulder around, requiring me to regain my balance. “Are you insane, Sebastian? You cannot go inside among rebellious mages. You only give them a hostage!”

“We do not know how rebellious they are. They have not attacked outsiders. If they have a fair petition, are we to be Magisters to throw chains on them?”

“There are other ways to protest. We must protect them from temptation and themselves! Magisters are what happens when mages get power! We cannot coddle them and risk everyone!” She was angry.

I only smiled. I was sure of the rightness of this task. “I am not risking everyone, only myself. We cannot make fair judgment if there is no investigation. I hold no power and can work for peace directly like I should have in Kirkwall.”

“You should not be put at risk, you are a Vael and lay brother still. Have they twisted your mind that you now join mages in their rebellion! They set you free to give mages a pawn inside the nobility of Starkhaven? This is why you did not leave to support the Chantry where there is fighting against the mages in Rivain or Cumberland. You are their puppet and they can rule through you.”

I told her of my lessons and thoughts earlier, and she was twisting it into only power ploys and war. _Maker forgive me, I am a frail reed, for the tasks you give_ _me_ _._

My voice had a snap when I spoke. “Ser Jayne. _I will investigate_ and try to bring that peace. Now, before hasty decisions become permanent and innocents are hurt. We all face the Maker, and I will do it with a clear conscience that _I have lived Andraste's teachings_ for all the Maker's children.”

Her face was mutinous. “I cannot allow you to join rebels, I cannot allow a royal line to become corrupted.”

“You have no say in what I do. I am a Vael of Starkhaven, and my faith does not require that I obey Templar hierarchy. It did not when I was a Brother, and it does not if I am a prince. I want a peaceful solution for _all Andraste's children_.” My ugly thought would not be denied. “How far did the Knight Vigilant _order_ you to secure a disgraced prince? Do you have your own conscience or have you given that over in favor of only blood and death like those in Kirkwall?”

She glared at me for a moment and walloped me.

She was in full armor and she was strong.

I flew partway across the room and rolled to my feet, ready to go for my dagger. My bow was still in my rack.

Ser Jayne still glared at me. “Put on your armor, _Prince_. We wouldn't want you to be late for your idiocy.”

I put my armor on, with a special prayer for Andraste. I brought daggers as well as Grandfather's bow. I was not coming as a weak nobleman or sheltered brother, but as a Vael of Starkhaven. I nodded at Ser Jayne, resisting a touch at the aching side of my face.

The Starkhaven tower had been incomplete and empty when I was here last year. Nor had I paid much attention when I returned, as I did not want to be pulled into their war. But the war was already here; it needed no army on the march.

I arrived at the perimeter around the tower, and there were a dozen Templars in view. Jayne's presence made for a leaden silence as I walked.

A Templar lieutenant noted Jayne's arrival and they traded salutes. When he noted my presence, his stance grew stiffer. “Ser, I'm afraid the Tower is off limits to visitors. The Commander will be able to discuss any relatives at a later time once things have returned to normal...”

“Ser, I am Sebastian Vael. I am here to investigate the situation and report to my cousin. I seek a peaceful resolution.”

I heard marching feet and a fair-haired Knight Commander carried his helm as he stopped between myself and the Tower. 

His voice was lazy and amused. “You do not need to concern yourself, Ser. We have this situation under control. They have no more than a month of food and we are bringing more to contain them if they decide to break out and threaten the city. Your city is safe and you can count on our bringing them to heel.”

I wanted to reel back in alarm, and could not say why. “I wish to speak to the mages and see if they can be brought back peacefully into harmony with the Chant.”

He laughed. “They are animals and walk off the cliff willfully. Unschoolable, they understand starvation and the rod. Anything else and they misunderstand _their place_.”

I schooled my face and refused to look at Jayne to see if she agreed. He was not a son of Andraste's Chant of mercy, and now I needed to see how bad a Commander he was. “I am Vael and this is Starkhaven. I have the right to go _anywhere_ in Starkhaven, you cannot gainsay me. You _cannot_ prevent this. Now _let me_ pass.”

“Ser...!” Jayne said.

“You can go into the Tower, but no one leaves without _my_ permission.” The Knight Commander tried to loom over me, but lacked the height.

“You cannot stop me.”

“Escort the fool, I look forward to learning how well he emerges from the care of the maleficar.”

I was roughly hauled toward the newly constructed Starkhaven Tower. Jayne was still objecting, citing her assignment from Val Royeaux, but that made no difference as their argument faded from distance. They shoved me toward the door and snickered when I caught my footing.

I checked my bow and it had taken no damage from the rudeness. I knocked, almost pounded on the huge door, while I looked out of the corner of my eyes as Templars stood and watched from a safe distance.

“You have our demands, before we open the doors.” The voice did not carry through very well, and the accent uncertain.

“I am Vael. Here to investigate this situation and find a peaceful solution in the Maker's name.”

“Your Highness!” The door slid open and hands pulled me into the dim entryway.

Once inside, two mages slammed and sealed the door. The bar looked simple, aside from the fact that it was huge and would have blocked the door very well even if broken. They led me into the entryway, where merchants' scales and books must track supplies and shipments for the Tower. An alcove or watch area showed where Templars would normally stand at post. The chamber seemed well appointed and clean, with oak framing and light green painted plaster.

The elven woman in black and green robes raised painful associations, but it was an older mage in faded robes and disordered beard who spoke first. “Welcome, Your Highness. We did not hope you would take an interest with... your experiences away from Starkhaven.

Steeling myself I moved closer. “I was horrified and wish to prevent the occurrence of that tragedy here in my home.”

They were close enough and I prayed that this would worked as they began their story. In mid sentence, I swept my bow as hard as I could through both of them. This was the only test I knew of. Years of archery granted me great strength in my upper body and they were floored and stunned for a moment or two.

I stepped back, praying that I was not about to face abominations.

They helped each other up, the older mage's face bleeding, the younger's fists clenching as she summoned her magic.

“Hold, 'ild.” The elder's voice was firm in tone, but mushy. He cast some magic, identifiable as healing. “He uses only prudence. Don't you, Vael?”

I put away my bow as a gesture of goodwill. “I am deeply sorry I did that, but that is the only test I know of. A lesson from the Scourge in years before.”

“You could have spoken to...” The woman checked her elder and then herself.

“It would have been no softer if he did it later. Now we can start in a place of... painful honesty.” The older mage must be an Enchanter, by the large gem at his throat. “Speaking of painful, your injury is irritating to see, may I?”

I had forgotten. “Thank you. I had a disagreement with one of the Templars about my involvement. You are?”

Even as he healed the ache, the elder was embarrassed. “I'm sorry. We have not introduced ourselves, have we? I am Senior Enchanter Jerrol, and this is Enchanter Larkspur. Perhaps we can talk in the senior commons?”

Some rearrangement of those mages on guard, and a handful of them led me to a meeting room. I wasn't about to try to test them all, but these were the leaders. Once in the plain chamber with construction supplies piled at one end, I noticed the last of the mages tucked in a smaller corner was very young and lacked the badge of a senior enchanter. Other than her, the mages were an assortment of ages, leaning to the older side. An awkward silence fell and they seemed uneasy with a stranger there. Only a few would meet my eyes.

On my part I wasn't comfortable either. Hawke's parties were the only times I had seen mages frequently in my life. “I understand you have a grievance, can you clearly explain what it is?”

Larkspur burst out, “Surely Mother Cithol has told you about it, we have been sending her reports and pleas for weeks and all we have gotten back are short and noncommittal replies.”

That made my stomach churn. “Complaints are no reason engage in rebellion.”

“This is no rebellion. As Senior Enchanter, I'm acting First. I have an obligation to look out for, teach, and redress those under my care. So does the Knight Commander. When the problem is with the ethics of some of the Templars guarding us, I have little recourse.” The acting First Enchanter looked tired, his gray beard dull. “I hoped we could get the attention of others unaware of the problem, without breaking the other restrictions we live under.”

My heart was saddened when I could better see old and well-worn laugh lines on Senior Enchanter Jerrol's face. He both calmed and encouraged the others as he spoke.

Now I was getting to the root of the situation. “What are the ethics problems you mention? Activities like practicing blood magic or escaping are not relevant.”

He frowned. “I know that, of course. This is rape and horrible torture of mages, against the Divine Andraste's strictures. There had been reports and rumors from mages who had been in other Circles, but it was from the outspoken and mages who behaved suspiciously, ones who might be accused of forbidden practices or fugitives from annulled or free circles. These mages came here for peace and safety within the Circle. Only weeks ago when we had unexpected deaths who had shown no suicidal warning signs, I protested, we protested, but none would listen.”

This made me ill. I'd discounted what Hawke's mages had spoken of, but it was clear these had not been acting on a manifesto. “What proof do you have?”

“One of our apprentices was raped and tortured, with the recorded excuse of 'using blood magic to summon a lust demon.' We finally were able to rescue her from the lower cells and...”

The young red head girl sat up and made a gargling sound while pointing at her neck. Letters of light traced on the air. ' _He said I would never be able to testify because animals could not swear an oath._ _'_

Larkspur was enraged. “It took a week until Chloe was coherent enough to tell us what happened. Jerrol took another week to rebuild her legs so she could walk.”

The First Enchanter, lowered his hand to try to calm her. “Enough, Lark. His Highness is a devout man,”

The glowing letters in the air were now a fiery red. _'It doesn't matter how devout you are. I was studying to become a Sister. I wanted to sing the Maker's praises and I kept myself pure like a bride should._ _He_ _delighted in fouling me and I would have disappeared like other escapees._ _'_

“Do you have any proof that you didn't seduce him?” It was a horrible question, but I would be asked.

_'I was untouched, but that can't be prove_ _n_ _. He applied his rod until I was bloody and close to dying. Maybe the child will resemble him.”_ Her face was filled with such an ugly hatred, but only the slightest of curves hinted of her condition.

But that was no proof of this sickening crime. “I need to confirm who this was. Was he the Knight Commander Duarn Gualhart?”

Chloe's face became hard as stone when she nodded. I asked about other Templars, but Duarn was the worst offender. As Commander, he was responsible for their failures as well. Other than not allowing the criminals back inside they were continuing their studies and even prayer sessions. 

I had no idea what I could do to be sure they understood. I thought Chloe understood that I listened but I could not promise something quick. I retrieved Grandfather Kyros' gift, and opened the humble pouch for her to see. “When I went on a pilgrimage to seek Andraste's Ashes, this was given to me to remind me of small beginnings. Take a pinch, that you remember, too.”

Her eyes were filled with awe and she mouthed, _'Thank you.'_

I thought I'd learned enough, and it was time for me to leave. I did not want others to worry about me.

Lark and Jerrol led me back to the entrance and they carefully lifted the carved boulder out of the way, and I got ready to slip out.

As the door opened, I heard muffled grunting just before the door crashed open from a battering ram. Waves of smiting spilled over us, making me feel ill. “Th-this can be peac...” I found it harder to speak as the mages collapsed around me.

“It always was,” Duarn said, spinning a swagger stick.

I was trying to get back up, but couldn't even manage to get up on all fours.

Jerrol was unconscious, but Larkspur was swaying and trying to pull herself upright by the merchant scale. “You're as evil as a Magister, you Duster...” She fell over, cutting her forehead on the pan.

“I was right, she is a blood mage.” His voice sounded bored.

“Injury is not...” I could hear other Templars, moving inward and screams and cries from the mages. I tried to draw breath to protest more, but my lungs wouldn't work. An acrid smell reached me and settled at the floor level, making me feel ill.

“We have them all accounted for, Commander.”

I managed to lever my arm under me again to push up and lift my head out of the strange metal smell.

“Good. Just a little reminder what we do to blood mages.”

I lifted my head as I heard Lark's cry. The swagger stick had a signet in the handle and the... woman's cry stopped as soon as the metal was pulled away. She looked around blankly.

“You are an abomination in the sight of the Maker!” I managed to get up on my hands and knees. I didn't know how many had used smite on us.

My desperate hope was that Jayne was not one of them.

“Oh, I didn't forget, princeling. _N_ _o one_ leaves without Harrowing. No abominations will appear on my watch.”

I looked up when I realized he was close and had a smile as dark as any pride demon. 

I had to get up. 

He was evil. 

_**Andraste, help me in...** _

He kicked my supporting arm forward from under me and I fell flat. My face was grinding into the stone floor as if I was begging with my arms out stretched

** _the_ _time of..._ **

A heavy steel boot landed on my forearm and I could feel the fire of a fracture as I tried to get out from under.

_** my testing in the fire... ** _

Metal hit stone as the fire engulfed my hand and I screamed.

“I guess you aren't hosting an abomination after all.”

I saw the blood coming out. I saw my finger lying there as blood drained out and could not put together a thought beyond wanting this to be a nightmare. Wishing it could be healed.

That became academic when it was tossed into the fire by the Knight Commander. “This will remind you that _I rule this tower_ with the authority of the Knight Vigilant. Next time I will apply the rod to school you like these feral animals.”

Feeling ill and weak, I knew it was more than from my loss of blood. One of the other Templars wrapped a rag around my hand and almost dragged me out the door.

It wasn't even dusk yet. The sunny afternoon didn't seem real.


	13. Reporting In...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Anders leave the Vigil to report to the Warden in Denerim during the extended Landsmeet. Anders really likes his disguise now...

**Amaranthine, the Vigil**

**Hawke:**

A summer storm whipped against the stone walls of the Vigil as Anders sprawled all over the bed. A few drops might find their way in the narrow windows, but the cool air was welcome for a late Solis evening. I felt a little tired and a little groggy from the party, but I couldn't sleep. Not just yet.

I touched Anders' shoulder, almost expecting him to be insubstantial like my taint nightmares, but he murmured in his sleep. I was afraid this was only a dream, and I would wake up to exhaustion as a fugitive in the Wilds, with only a low tent for shelter from the storm.

_The miserably cold and clammy Firstfall rain dripped through the tarp that Papa put up over us. Bethany finally stopped whining and telling all of us that she was sorry when she fell asleep. Carver was mad because we had to leave and shoved me as often as he thought he could get away with it._

_I wasn't allowed to hit Carver back. I was too big._

_Earlier the twins finished the bread that Mama grabbed before we ran. That would be all we had until we found a new home, far away from Gwaren. It was only half a loaf, but it was more than what the rest of us had since our escape._

My fugitive half-loaf now seemed huge. _Anders_ married me.

_When Nathis finished the ceremony, my husband turned to me. His eyes were clear and golden, and the old creases of anger and pain smoothed. His arm slid around me and he paused to look at me in a silence as broad as night. As if I was spun glass, he traced my tattoo and bent over for the lightest of kisses._

_I stretched up and pulled him closer for a real kiss and the room got bright even through my closed eyelids._

_Slitting my eyes for an instant, we were in a pool of light that glimmered with fire and lightning. All I felt were his arms and lips. When I noticed the world again, my cheek was tucked in along Anders' neck and I finally noticed when I straightened that he'd shaved earlier._

_He wore a silly smile and mine probably matched it._

“ _Wardens.” A woman in some kind of pricey_ _Circle-style robes of painted silk s_ _poke with an Orlesian accent_ _. “I believe the_ _Warden-Constable_ _would appreciate it if you would be a little more careful._ _Messer_ _Howe has some fondness for the banners sewn by his late mother.”_

_I looked up and saw that the three closest to Anders and I had tendrils of smoke. Howe was rushing over to look up at them and Oghren was laughing. The fabric was covered in frost briefly and started dripping; Anders grinned after his frost spell._

_The other Wardens seemed to appear from nowhere as if by magic, filling the hall with their congratulations and teasing. I wasn't listening that much and I didn't think Anders was either. Next came came the bragging and wagers, but I really didn't need drinking to make this seem unreal._

_Anders whispered to me while two Wardens were trying a balancing trick with some bottles. “Do we really need to leave today?”_

“ _How long is the shipping time from Kirkwall's best bookbinders?”_

_He sighed. “Only one day, my wife. Then we go on to Denerim.”_

_I wasn't as enthralled with our disguises as he was, but he enjoyed taunting Templars. They had no reason to smite a whore flirting with them._

_At least Justice was proving so much more stable than a year ago or even weeks ago in the Vimmarks. That was a relief. I trusted Justice to fight, I wanted to trust him not to fight._

_Right now fighting was the last thing on their mind, as Anders chanted, “My wife,” over and over as he kissed me._

_Rude comments came from the other Wardens, mostly Oghren, and I made to stand so we could go back to our quarters. Another round of food came out, and I decided to stay for a bit longer for the un-Warden celebration._

_The ale punch was very good. Oghren had much more chest hair than Anders, though I maintained that Varric had better, even if it made them pout. Pemm told the best story about a drunken cart race last winter around these pillars, with Wardens crashing into each other or just falling off the carts. Nathaniel could smile and even got silly if he got drunk enough. A few more people, including non-Wardens found their way into the party as the day went on, but by sunset I snuck off with a wobbly Anders._

_I wasn't that steady on my feet either._

“Didn't today tire you out enough, love?” Anders rolled to face me, a smug smile that went well with his happy eyes.

“Tired, but not sleepy.”

He chuckled. “I used to have the advantage in stamina. I'll have to try harder.” With that he rolled a leg over to capture mine as his long fingers nearly tickled me along a scar.

When I reached under him to hit one of his sensitive places, his snort came just before another kiss. The tickle went both ways and giggles filled the dim room for a while.

I loved his laughter, lighter than it had ever been in Kirkwall.

In the morning, I didn't want to come out of our warm nest. The summertime room was a bit chill inside the stone walls and tiny windows.

Anders rolled out of bed silently.

When I peeked out from under the covers, he was washing efficiently without any side glances, I wasn't surprised when I saw from the slight glow that it was Justice. “I didn't expect you to approve of us getting married.”

“ _ **Many who visited the Fade had dreams about their weddings. I saw more than the mage believes.”**_

“But you approve of us marrying... You spent so much effort at blocking Anders finding love, or anything not improving mage freedom.”

“ _ **He is not a Fade spirit.”**_

“I know. So?”

“ _ **We have... affinities to concepts, emotions, and ideals that we seek to become the best embodiments of in the Fade. Too many become enthralled with the power dreamers bring with darker emotions and become demons. Demons make problems, justice brings solutions.”**_

“So how is Anders not being a Fade spirit related to objections to him being in love?”

“ _ **He was not honed to pursue that concept that is the purpose of his existence. He is unfinished and unreliable if he is not a sound blade.”**_

Whose was the obsession I knew so well? “That's not how living beings are. Our purposes change over time. Like when we're little children, the important things in life are sweets and playing. That doesn't mean we don't like hugs or won't fight.”

Justice looked at me, his Warden uniform neat and precisely in place. _**“That has always been difficult to understand. Because we are one, he must hone as I did**_ _ **until**_ _ **we are**_ _ **one ideal.”**_

I had to snort at that and sat up. “I'm sister, daughter, Champion, rogue, fugitive, and now wife. I'm never been just one thing.”

“ _ **You are Hawke.”**_

“Well, Anders should be the best embodiment of Anders.”

“ _ **That concept is difficult to hone.”**_

“Give him another fifty years or so and he should get it down.”

Justice frowned. _**“He does not have that many years left.”**_

I had to smile and blink away watering eyes. “Avernus said you and the taint are in opposition. No one knows how long you have compared to the rest of us.” That was the bitter pill after speaking with Avernus. I could easily have my Calling before Anders now.

“ _ **He was less honed when he faced you in Lowtown, less when you left him in the Planasene, and worse when that Magister was trying to supplant us. You seem to be part of that honing and purpose. Some compromise is more efficient.”**_

I almost made a comment about last night but he would not appreciate it. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up so I could wash and dress in my old armor for my role.

A morning kiss _finally_ came a few minutes later from a quiet Anders.

I looked at him and asked, “How much of our talk do you remember?”

“More some times than others. It is odd feeling his age. He doesn't remember time passing the way we do, but Blackmarsh was recent to him. He could have been in Andraste or Calenhad's dreams.” Anders began changing into his colorful silks and cosmetics again.

“Won't he be a problem with you changing again?”

Anders smiled. “Armor is part of his concept of justice, he'd prefer that he'd be able to change it instantly like in the Fade.”

He didn't really answer my question, but what could he say?

Once he was dressed, or undressed, into his gaudy fabrics he gave me a better kiss. “Another day, love. As many as we have together is enough for me.”

“I decided not to mention to Justice how much honing you were doing last night.” I had to grin.

With his laugh, I looked around the room to make sure I hadn't left anything. Paws came when I whistled, almost herding Ser Mew ahead of him.

The days it took to reach Denerim were more a forced march than a garden stroll. As we got closer we began to see more people who were obviously from outside lands for the Landsmeet, brighter colors and strange jewelry, with accents that seemed strange again after months back in Ferelden. Sisters and Templars walked along the busy streets, but so did city guard and members of the Fereldan army. Nobles and their servants cluttered streets and markets, gossiping about other places and complaining about prices.

It felt strange to see soldiers in good health when I hadn't seen more than a score at the time since Ostagar. The foreigners had guards, more than I remembered for Landsmeet as a child.

What I hadn't anticipated was that there weren't any rooms at the inns. At first I thought it was because we looked low class and they didn't want us. But even the inns near the docks were full.

It seemed the Landsmeet had started weeks ago and no end was in sight. Gossip blamed every kind of interest, from the Queen to the Banns to the mages. Not that the mages had an embassy or spokeswoman.

We heard that just about every noble in Ferelden was here and trying to curry royal favor for war concessions. And the Queen wanted some from the Landsmeet as well. More importantly to Anders and I, they were arguing about the 'Mage war.'

Anders wasn't as flirty when he learned they were arguing on which forces to ally with.

Then the numbers of Sisters and Templars on the streets was something to worry about.

Amaranthine had a mansion as did Amaranthine itself, a division that seemed strange to a village chit. Both were close to Fort Drakon where the court was. Anders hoped we had the right one when we reached the massive entryway. It was a pretty building. Anders clung to me and pretended fear of anyone in armor, his face decorated by Orlesian powers. The scent was almost overpowering.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the carved and massive door with tiny little bears in aged and worn wood. Even before the door came open to reveal guards, I knew they would not be Wardens. My first step inside I saw the bear and griffin that I'd seen at the Vigil, so this was the right place.

The guards were wearing the same silverite armor as the Keep's regulars. While they respected the worn sword on display at my side, they weren't as enthralled by Anders and his cloud of perfumes.

The one guard, probably the senior, spoke for them. “I'm sorry, Ser. What business to you have with Amaranthine?”

Another guard sneezed and her gaze was full of accusation. I was almost used to the smell now. “Look, I've been commissioned to deliver this... companion to the Arlessa safe and sound by Lord Bran Newan from the Marches for old times' sake. He told me his news is out of date, but if this boy with the big eyes isn't satisfactory or she just got married, I'll find another place for him.”

That prompted some hissed talk and we were left in the bare entry with a click.

Anders whispered to me. “You are evil, Dera. I hoped you were going to say I was from Nathaniel.”

“Bran was so irritating, so I can't say that this idea isn't a lot of fun.” I never was sure why that man was so cutting.

“He came so often to get healed, I wonder how he's managed since.” Anders distracted me from my watch with his warm breath.

As the procurer I had to pretend boredom, but I could tell Anders was enjoying this. The guard returned and took us into the bowels of the mansion. I marked the path for flight. When we reached a doorway in the plainer corridor, the guard knocked. I knew there was a Warden inside the room and set my greedy bitch mask back in place. The guard shut the door behind us.

The other Warden, an annoyed male elf, had a desk of papers and journals he was looking at. “The Arlessa is not interested in acquiring the services of a...” Then he stopped at looked at us. “Wardens, what is the meaning of this?”

Anders straightened and almost snapped his words. “We're here to report on the death of a darkspawn, and ancient one who survived since the first Blight. By evidence and his own words, he was one of the mages who invaded the Fade. Wardens have kept him as a prisoner since then, thinking they could tame him...”

“Stupid sots.” I had to add.

“His dreams tainted the Kirkwall area with madness and blood magic. He was killed, but we're reporting because of Cousland's ban on compromise with darkspawn. The secret has gotten to non-Wardens so they will be warned, hopefully before any more are found. All those who died through the ages in that prison, served no purpose but madness.” Anders voice dripped with contempt like a spigot.

The other Warden looked shocked, but absorbed the news and got angrier. “You will split the Grey Wardens with this!”

I moved up right in front of his desk and glared down at him. “ _They were already split_. Two groups in that forgotten prison were already fighting over their toy, and had been long before we got there. We just ended it by removing the temptation.”

“This secret must be brought into the light and air to heal. If you keep these secrets, you approve of all that was done for power; you approve what that blighted Magister did to the Wardens and Kirkwall, and what fools did to try to claim his power.” Anders began to glow a little, but not like Justice controlled him. “Should we list all the things done for or to gain that blighted Magister? The slaughter of hundreds or maybe thousands of Imperial slaves, human and elf, their bones in piles like drifts of sand? Magic so powerful and old, the spell may not yet have ended even a thousand years later. The fools after the first Blight wanted a tame darkspawn, and would not admit it was a failure. The fools who trapped too many inside this prison and used unwilling blood magic of non-Wardens to rebind him generation after generation until all that remained was their lust for his power? Ever wonder why Kirkwall had darkspawn near when there was no Blight? This Magister ghoul's dreams acted like an Archdemon's dreams.”

The other Warden had paled. “You bring this report here? Why not Ansburg? It's closer.”

I squeezed Anders' arm. “Ansburg was closer, but the corrupted Wardens were based there. This had to be taken to Wardens not affected by his dreams.”

“Why did you survive?” Suspicion was a step up for him after anger and fear.

Anders' laughed bitterly and with a little hysteria. “What makes you think _we_ survived the madness? His dreams of power and contempt and the old magic nearly drowned me. _I tried to kill my wife, summoning things that cannot be summoned_ _in today's magic_ _schools_ _.”_

He sobbed, and clutched me close. “The Knight-Commander of Kirkwall animated giant statues to attack her enemies in her particular madness. Blood magic was always getting more common in Kirkwall as the old bindings weakened and madness was not far behind.”

“Shh,” I said as I brushed Anders' cheek. “We were three Wardens, but that was an accident or Maker's blessing as the Carta sought the children of the mage who did the last seal, not Grey Wardens and allies. No one knew how to strengthen the seals nor did we have a mage who wasn't a Warden. My sister and I shared the bloodline and were partly protected. Mages and Wardens were most affected, though it affects all three races.”

“He's dead, at least we think he's dead, maybe he was part demon. But the full story needs to be passed to all Warden outposts. If we want to end Blights we can't keep Darkspawn in the basement, The tale will be public too, to keep other Wardens from doing this idiocy behind closed doors.” Anders looked very serious, despite the gaudy clothing. He hated secrets like that.

That almost made me laugh when I realized how strange his appearance made this lecture.

The other Warden sighed. “The Commander is at another Landsmeet event as Arlessa. She will return later. Where... never mind, I will order a room for you. You do have uniforms, I hope?”

A more respectful guard left us in a fine guest room, a bit nicer than my mansion had been after Mother refurbished it. The quantity of plaster seemed shocking after so many years in the ever-present stone of Kirkwall.

I peeked out the door and saw the disapproving woman was on guard. The window was a little small on this upper floor, but we could exit if we needed to.

Anders didn't move to get his uniform out. Instead, he sprawled out on the lounge with Ser Mew curled up and purring low on my husband's scanty clothing. I was nervous, even if I wasn't exactly worried.

The door swung open suddenly.

Cousland took one look at us when she entered our room, still in a formal dress, and started laughing. “Well, I must admit it, Anders. No Templar could possibly think that a raging abomination is the slut you look like. Some of them are more likely to want to buy an evening if you were at the Pearl. And the cat, too.”

He grinned. “I was such a terrible threat to virgin and repressed Templars. But... we got married at the Vigil before we came here.”

“Anders!” Cousland was surprised, annoyed, and a little bemused by our news. “Why didn't you tell me? I think I deserve to see your wedding after all that shit you did to annoy Alistair and me.”

Anders sobered. “It would not have been safe.”

“It's safe now?

I agreed with Anders. “Justice was not very understanding over the years, so it was a recent idea.”

“From Justice,” Anders said with a grin. “He apparently thought _Oghren_ was an expert in planning weddings, because he had married at the Vigil.”

“No!” Cousland couldn't stop laughing. “No, I'm hoping for a wedding with _more_ than drinking games and his terrible jokes.”

“Yes, that was most of it. But _we_ snuck away.” I was just happy.

After a long minute, Cousland said, “So you found another Architect?”

“More powerful, maybe close to an Archdemon, but more insane.” Anders shivered. “His dreams and contempt, along with the singing of his slaves from his memory were... enough to smother us. Justice and I, that is. Hawke was a tower of strength and sanity.”

“A long story and Wardens caused it by NOT killing him, like leaving a raging fire burning. Those idiots should have been dropped into the ocean off a short plank. That is not vigilant.” I almost wished I had extended Janneka's death.

The Warden sighed. “I'd better make sure Alistair hears this report. We met other Wardens who think political games are more important than defending from the Blight. Loghain thought the same, that ruling a decimated country was a win. The dead don't gave a damn about who rules or if their children were acceptable losses, they just wanted to live.”

“Four corrupted Wardens and some blight-tainted Carta died, Trinna. I've never found a way to cure madness like that.” Anders stopped smiling. “I'm not sure if the other three were as corrupted as Janneka, but they followed her orders even when another Commander said she was wrong.”

“You're a Senior Warden, too, Anders. I put in those commendations before I got called to Weisshaupt. I couldn't make you a Ser like Howe, the Queen would never agree. Anyone who served during the Blight, and I include the mess at the Vigil, are not rank and file. It just hadn't been approved before you and Justice went off.” Her smile was ironic. “I wouldn't suggest visiting Weisshaupt for the final ceremony, though.”

Anders' face made me laugh.

“That doesn't sound too bad a death count, we've had worse on smaller missions. You had non-Wardens... never mind, Alistair will just love this. This kind of willingness to sacrifice innocents always angers him. Anders, he really wanted your execution when we found you, so I'm glad to hear my faith was justified. Good job.”

Anders relaxed the smallest bit, and looked at me as if he was a little surprised.

That made me sad again, he didn't expect any praise or commendation when he did something. Papa had approved, Athenril had, if grudgingly. Even if my mother never understood or praised me much, I had support from Papa.

I put my arm around him again. “I should say it more, honey, but you are magnificent. If you would lose your magic, I have no doubt that you would still be as wonderful and canny a fighter for whatever cause you chose.”

“Magnificent?” he purred, sliding a leg against mine and then under. “I like that word, love. Now which part is the most magnificent? Repeat that over and over again.”

A cough came from Cousland. “I'd tell you to get a room, but this is your room.”

Anders snickered from where his face was against my neck.

“So I want you two alert when we return later from the Antivan dinner. Maybe we'll need help with poisons, with how Landsmeet is dragging out.” She moved out of the room as she was speaking. “I'll let the kennel know about your animals.”

We ate and explored the mansion in the evening and Paws lagged behind at the small kennel. This was a bit more spacious than the Amell mansion that was carved out of a mountain, ages ago.

The Warden we met earlier and another guard left with Cousland and Alistair. I wasn't sure if I thought that it was funnier that they had bodyguards after they killed the Archdemon, or alarming that they needed them.

Kirkwall had been smaller, in more ways than just size.

I'd admit that I wasn't sure what I should wear. I thought our armor and disguises were the important things in our packs. And even with the runes I'd bought several times from the Tranquil shopkeeper in Hightown we'd reached the limit of what we could carry over and over.

The Warden armor was necessary for non-Wardens. The plainer armor was needed to be less conspicuous. I _should_ get rid of the Champion armor, as it took up too much room. But I didn't want to. It was still what I most wanted to be. Something that was better than all the hate and destruction. Something that served 'only that which is best in me.'

I never thought that proverb from Papa was just about magic.

Anders still kept his dark, Vengeance armor and made no move to get rid of it even someplace safer, like the Vigil. His Warden armor he'd worn since Orzammar. He'd been much more cheerful since he stopped wearing it.

“Which armor?” I asked when we were done eating.

“I think we're safe enough, love. It's a warm summer night for Ferelden. Wear your dress.”

I felt warm. “That was to distract Corff from my face.”

My husband leered. “It distracted him very well. That dress distracted me very well too, but I didn't really get to enjoy it. Please?”

That was a really short dress, rivaling Isabela's tunic.

His eyes were so hopeful, so I agreed. I could enjoy looking at him while he reported. But mostly I was glad to see him wanting something for fun for a change.

We sat at the small table in our room, and I decided to write Sebastian in Starkhaven and hope he got it. The rumors were contradictory, about some kind of upset there. So I wrote a letter from Warden Nightingale, a brief note announcing the death of a major darkspawn near Kirkwall and Starkhaven. Any incursions should be brought to the attention of the nearest outposts: Ansburg, Orzammar, or Denerim if the prince needed assistance.

I was working on the phrasing for my draft, while Anders absently caressed my thigh.

A small ruff from Paws, and the Senior Warden's summons arrived. In a short time a servant with a curled lip escorted us away from our room, preceded by a fresh applications of Anders' perfume and cosmetics. Anders could not stop grinning.

After the maid knocked, she scurried away as quickly as she could. Anders pinched me and my face was red when we entered the study.

Cousland said only, “Wardens...”

Alistair was a lot less amused. “I'm supposed to take you seriously when you are dressed like this? This doesn't reflect well on us!”

Anders laughed. “Oh, really, MacTherin? You _never_ liked my activities off duty.” My husband sat down on the chair in front of the desk and pulled me to sit on his lap again. It look me only an instant to realize he was not that interested in whatever Alistair was upset about. He just wanted to sneak cuddling in during the lecture.

“...at the Vigil between missions. You know the reputation Grey Wardens have across Thedas. The rulers and nobles would be very quick to exile us. We...” Alistair sputtered to a stop when he noticed how little Anders was listening.

Attryne was split between laughing and adding comments to Alistair's lecture.

I was very distracted despite wanting to appear attentive, at least a little bit.

Well, enough to avoid court-martial, if the Wardens had that. I wondered how long this stop in Denerim would last. Wearing Warden armor was fun, almost like a costume, but I wanted to just enjoy being Anders' wife for a week.

Anders made agreeable noises but his attention was on me, making me wish I wasn't in armor. My flirty dress wasn't that much in the way of his sneaky fingers. I wasn't all that sure if he was also using magic, but I was getting light-headed and started wriggling a little in his lap.

He stifled a gasp with me and I froze. My face warmed with my embarrassment.

MacTheirin stopped talking and the silence rang out.

I didn't look at the other Wardens and tried to listen.

Cousland got serious. “Anders, we need a complete report, especially if you think this compromised other bases and outposts. The other posts tend to discount our reports, and try to refute our decisions. But I have that latitude because of results. You need that.”

“Heysal is the name you should attach to these reports, as the most senior Warden.” Alistair said sourly.

Anders leaned forward to get a board and paper for sketches or notes, and a tiny wriggle from him left us skin to skin under my dress and the drape of his bright streetwalker costume. He summarized the story of the Warden prison in a clear voice with only a hint of humor in his voice.

But below that, every time he shifted to hand over or make a careless sketch of the Carta areas or Malvernus, and I wasn't sure who was getting more frustrated.

Descriptions of journals and that old god altar hauled my attention away from my husband and back to what happened. When we got to where Justice panicked, I got caught up in the Warden prison events again.

Alistair wanted to know about the pieces of ancient Warden armor we found. “Did you find any notes or tags with that armor?”

“No, they were separated, we didn't realized they were a formal set until Avernus found the nearly smoothed out hallmarks of an Orzammar smith on the pieces.” I hadn't really seen a clear hallmark at the time.

Alistair looked at Cousland, with rueful annoyance and a little worry. “That armor goes deep, deep into the time of the first Grey Wardens.”

Anders stuffed a small pillow behind his back and I lost track of the conversation. I tried to shift my seat just a little, but with little effect on my focus.

I couldn't move without standing up, and I didn't really want that, despite the tiny alarmed voice in my head. I was _hoping_ the other two would just wander off to some social event. I couldn't be sure how far Anders would take his cuddling.

Not that I cared that much this time.

A whisper came right into my ear. “I _told_ you I was very good at these games at Kinloch. The library, the rooftop garden, an Enchanter's office, the small Chantry during service while we knelt very close. A fillip of spice to pass through the same old lectures like this one. I always wanted to do this while he lectured me.”

“Anders!” Alistair demanded with irritation rising, “How many victim skulls could you count in that place?”

My husband was only moving tiny bits, frustrating bits while he listed what we found. “One, two three, five thousand, I'm sure of. We don't know _how_ many may have become dust and there was a lot of bone dust. There could have easily been _ten_ times that, it's been almost _fifteen_ ages since the first blight.”

My roguish husband was taunting me now without a word. He counted as I tried to keep a straight face and not start moaning.

Or knocking him over with wanting him.

Alistair brought out an outdated map of the Marches and major settlements. “The color, brittleness, and remaining fleshy bits in the old thaigs helped find oldest record locations in the Deep Roads...”

“The bones weren't _solid_ or _firm_ , but brittle enough to _break_ under any _press_ ure.” Anders barely hid his smugness, his voice deeper than usual.

I was the one about to shatter in the sudden quiet.

A gasp, almost a moan, came from Cousland.

She _knew_.

She flushed and looked uncomfortable.

Then I realized that I hadn't flushed since we sat down and Anders started.

That made _me_ flush.

Cousland's voice was a little breathy and a lot lower. “Alistair. Finish later. They just married. After all.”

I wasn't sure if there was a note of something else, too. Anders' kiss ended that thought and when we finished, we were alone in the office.

“That was sneaky. We are going to be in such trouble.” I lazily smacked his arm.

He was practically purring. “Not really. Wardens are notorious and he told us some of the stories from before the Blight. Oghren was pushing for stories of Wardens and was fascinated by any rumors about Kinloch. The bawdier, the better Oghren liked the stories. Maybe that's why Alistair spent so little time at the Vigil. Ask me if I care that much what a Chantry-raised former Templar likes. They were upset when we got here. It'll be good for them.”

“What?” I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or run for the hills, but the small shrieking voice was back.

“I increased their energy. They should sound like a pair of rutting nugs by now.” Anders sounded like he was annoyed.

I rubbed my forehead, having trouble thinking. “Their energy?”

Anders nibbled my ear. “Well, the full spell affects _everyone_ in the area. I'm trying to relearn that one, I used it in Ka'Hirol a lot. Helps you recover quicker for another fight. But it's different if no enemy can absorb that extra excitement.”

That gave me an idea I didn't like. “It just boosts whatever you're feeling, like alcohol?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Did you do that to me before?” I told myself, _Wait, wait for the answer._

Anders shook his head before he could speak. “Once in a while, the lesser version for longer battles, but it was hard to cast with Vengeance. Today was the version Isabela remembered from the Pearl.”

I pushed him away and smacked him, horrified by this spell. He had used magic on me and other people for his jollies, like some _Magister_ amusing himself with slaves. “What if one of them had lust for one of us? Or both of us? We could have been raped while we were so distracted by your spell.”

“Love, I...” Anders finally sounded worried by my reactions.

“Would you for one second have tried that on Cullen or someone else who might be controlling anger about something?” Nightmarish visions of being helpless and distracted at the wrong time was making me panic. I always had to be alert when working under Athenril, many resentful and angry smugglers we met would have been happy to rape Bethany and me.

“I would _never_ do that, love. Are you that angry that we had company? Don't you trust them? It would have been _fun._ ”

This was just wrong. My Anders had used magic to trick us into group... Like we were pawns for his satisfaction, Like Alistair hadn't wanted to execute him already... Like I was a toy... _No._

“Yes, no...” _No more smacking the husband._ “I want _you_ to be more careful. Magisters manipulate. We aren't in the Circle. It's that we don't really know _their_ intentions. You got lucky in the Pearl, honey. What if one of the customers had been like Quenton or that magistrate's son who had taken Orana?”

We were fugitives and had no real legal safety or status. Rumors of what happened here in the Denerim Alienage during the Blight were still flying around when I was smuggling with Athenril. Tevinter ships took away full cargoes and we heard later about the empty Alienage. Fenris was eloquent in his silences about how they abused non-mages with their magic. _Was he right?_ I hated even thinking it.

Anders was silent for a long moment and then spoke in a small voice. “I thought it would be fun.”

I counted to ten, like I had so many times for my brother. Then I repeated it a few more times and took additional deep breaths. “ _That_ idea you should have talked to me about first.”

My stomach churned. Alistair was handsome, but I _wasn't_ interested in him. I didn't want to live Anders' Kinloch activities with many partners.

Maybe he did.

I couldn't think about this anymore.

I was frozen into crystal.

“You're free to do what you want, if you need that.” _But I only wanted Anders._

I stood up and straightened my dress.

I was fine.

If I told myself that enough, maybe I'd believe it.

Then I walked over to the door and I looked up and down the hall. It was late and there were only a few lamps lit; no servants lingered near the Arlessa's office this late. I didn't want to run into anyone I knew.

A few steps further and I heard the other Wardens. They were not being very quiet. I glared at Anders and turned to go back to our room, with him trailing me in silence. Once there, I checked the window and found it had more promise than I'd thought earlier. I put on my old black armor and went out, ignoring Anders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some phrases are taken from or adapted from canon.


	14. ... In the Doghouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders needs to mend fences, but isn't quite sure why. And the former Templar is not happy about what happened either.

** Denerim, the Arldom of Amaranthine guest quarters **

** Anders: **

The formal suite echoed around me with the silence of Hawke's departure.

_** That was foolish, mage. ** _

_ I figured that out on my own. _

_** Since we are one, of course we identified that there was a problem. ** _

_ You're not helping. _

The disapproval from Justice made me want to justif... explain.

_ I always managed to have fun, even while running away from Templars here in Ferelden. Strapping farm lads, wenches at small inns, even the brothels in larger towns. There they don't care where you're from, only if you leave everyone happy. Made me happy too. I wanted have that with Hawke. But...  _

_** That is not the problem. ** _

No, it wasn't. Hawke was amused when I teased Templars and travelers. The pit hissing in my stomach knew she wasn't amused now.

I remembered her harsh gaze after the other two left us and it wasn't annoyance, it was a simmering fury. Underneath that? Was there anything under that? 

This felt like that night in the Planasene. She told me I was free to go then, too. Did she want me to go? This time I couldn't follow her. I had to wait and hope she'd be willing to talk when she came back. I refused to think about the alternative.

I needed to fix this, _I didn't want_ _to lose_ _Hawke_ _even if a_ _small part of me was angry she ruined my_ _evening plans_ _._

Now the silence echoed within.

The silence of when Justice disapproved. He didn't say anything even as I sat on the bed, looking out the open window and hearing the faint sounds of the Denerim street. 

Hawke had not gone out like this in a very long time, not since we were hunting for Haven. Now she was out in a city full of people who wanted her dead. They wanted me dead more.

Despite the open window and summer air in our room, I felt trapped. A movement over by the window caught my eye, but it was only Ser Mew stretching and settling back on the shelf to sleep. 

I heard scratching at the door and a demanding bark. I was reluctant to open the door, but didn't want Paws fetching someone to let him in. The graying mabari glared at me and circled the room. When he reached the window, he growled at me where I stood by the still-open door. That tense moment he stared at me, and I considered baring my throat to him. He had no bias, no hatred of mages. 

“I love her, Ser Paws, but I...” Any excuse I made would not convince a mabari. “She'll be back for you, at least.”

He considered me and circled to rest beside the window.

I thought for a little while, and then washed my face with water I warmed. My disguise looked stained and sad, no matter how bright the fabrics. It was the opposite of the armor we made while Vengeance was our curse.

Over and over I kept returning to my Hawke stripping off her dress in angry jerks when we got back here. She strapped her under-padding on and her dark, bluish leather on top of that. With only a pause, she went over the railing at the window. I heard no thud that she slipped when she exited.

When I went to the window hoping for some glimpse of Hawke, lamps and torches scattered through the darkened streets. I didn't see anyone moving through the street while I watched.

Turning back into our room, I lit the pair of small lamps. I saw a glint of metal not very far from where Paws was dozing. 

I bent over to pick it up and had to control my breath. It was Hawke's earring that I gave to her in the Marches last autumn while we were fleeing Kirkwall. My earring was still in my ear.

Was this an accident or had Dera dropped it deliberately? I wasn't even her husband for a week. I dropped to sit on the bed, gripping her earring until it pierced the skin, praying it was a mistake... or a nightmare.

_ What did I do wrong? _

Only silence.

_ You know! _

_** You know as much as I do, if you could focus. ** _

I wiped my eyes. Everything seemed fine before we were summoned down to the study. She bounced through the halls, and I knew she was looking forward to leaving any future Warden consequences for Trinna to deal with. 

I was too, but I wanted to seduce Dera in plain sight, an old thrill dating back to Kinloch. It was one of the few I enjoyed there. Sneaking around, enjoying ourselves in right in front of Sisters, other mages, and even Templars. We got more prestige among other mages when we flouted Templar rules. During a lecture was a _bigger_ win, even better was the rumored times Templar trainees could be enticed to join in. That was the fun part of magic, small magic released that made large effects.

I bet myself that I could get them, get them involved in something much more fun than a lecture.

Sneaking was a bigger thrill too.

Hawke enjoyed sneaking. We'd spent much of the celebration at the Vigil either kissing, or nestled against each other, lazily enjoying the party. 

Today, the ex-Templar was completely oblivious to what we were doing during his lecture. He didn't notice how his caramel eyes had gotten a little glassy and how Trinna wasn't really listening to him as her full lips trembled.

Hawke wasn't listening either. Her kisses were intoxicating and I let another wave of magic free, barely guiding it as we kissed.

Even from memory, my breath was shortening, feeling Dera against me again until she made a surprised noise in my memory.

_** Focus! ** _

_ This isn't the clinic anymore. I can dream about my wife! _

_** Do you want to do more than dream? ** _

That brought my fears crashing back. I looked at Hawke's earring. _What had I done?_ She was in a good mood earlier, and Attryne and Alistair hadn't been angry about our killing Corypheus.

Cousland and Alistair would be fun. I'd admired her even before my Joining and Alistair was very attractive, aside from that ex-Templar part. My spell didn't _do_ that much, not as much as I hoped. They had eyes for each other as he carried Trinna away. They didn't get that far away. 

It would have been _fun._

I remembered others being embarrassed when I was younger. I was sure I could charm Hawke out of that. I hadn't lost my touch.

Justice's continuing silence was a familiar disapproval

_ What? _

_** To enslave another creature does not seem just.  ** _

_ What? Wait, you said that when... Ser Mew isn't a slave! No more than Ser Pounce was! _

_** You are perverted by your desires now. This is not about the small mortals. ** _

_ Of course I desire my wife, that's part of being free and married. _

_** You have an obligation to a wife and the Commander. Taking their choice with magic is not just. ** _

Hawke got angry about the spell?  I used it many times on her before, even if we didn't need it. _I'd used that spell many times with others, too. Everyone loved it._

Justice lapsed into silence again. I wanted everything to go back to the way it was when I first Joined. Minus the Architect and with all the Hawke I wanted. Instead my thoughts kept circling around, touching on Hawke, Kinloch and the Pearl, the other Wardens, having fun, and Hawke getting upset _about magic. She liked magic._

When I looked out the window, the faintest light of dawn was on the horizon. Paws was snoring.

Then I really began to worry about Hawke's safety, too. I knew her family avoided Templar strongholds while her father lived, so she had few friends or allies here.

At dawn, Hawke came back in the room from the hallway and I rushed over, stopping _just_ before we touched. 

She looked at me, her face without expression, and rubbed her arms.

“I'm sorry, Hawke.” I really wasn't sure why she was upset, but I could say honestly that I was sorry she was. Anything else and Justice would comment.

Dera dropped tiredly on the fine armchair and it creaked, her eyes looking strained. “I had to get out, Anders. Or else I would have hit you until you bled. Or I would have curled into a ball and cried for a week.”

Kneeling in front of her, but barely touching, I swallowed so hard it hurt. “I didn't mean to hurt you, love. I don't understand.”

With a light touch, Dera ghosted her fingers through my hair.

She didn't lean any closer and I swayed closer with wanting to hold her.

“I know that, honey, but that doesn't make it much easier. It's a lot of things all together.”

Grabbing onto my hope, I put my head in her lap and arms around her. I made a painful promise in a quiet voice. “I _won't_ do magic again, Hawke. Never outside battle or healing.” Giving up magic sometimes would be far easier than giving up Hawke, though I was afraid of Justice's opinion.

“It isn't quite that, Anders. It's part of you, but...” Her fingers tangled in my hair, but gently, and I moved my head under her fingers.

Finally she spoke. “This has little to do with magic. You used trickery and magic to get something without consent. You didn't ask them, you didn't ask me, if we wanted it at all. It's like someone getting a cute villager drunk so they simply cannot say no. It's like an armored thug raping a girl with a knife at her throat or while she sleeps. This isn't the Rose where everyone is there to have fun. You didn't give any of us warning or ask permission.”

“Alrik wanted to have fun, not give Ella any choice. It was hard to believe _you_ could do that to anyone.” Dera sounded like she was looking away.

Convulsively tightening my arms, I wanted to howl,'No!'. Finally, I whispered, “I wanted everyone to have fun, not control you. It isn't blood magic... really. I don't want to be like that...I...” I felt ill now.

Hawke lifted my face up. “You aren't cruel, but you are impulsive, honey. And you must be a little more explicit about what you want to do. I won't stand in your way if you _need_ something.” Her tone of voice warned me of more.

“But you aren't interested in those games, are you, Hawke?”

Her face fell, losing the stiff blankness and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I don't want anyone else. But you do, and that hurts more than anything else.”

“No, love! I will always want you.” My throat hurt seeing Hawke like this. _How could I explain it?_ “I want to share the best things in my life with you, love. I brought you too many dark things and I want to give you the best I can.”

“They're good in bed?” Her face was confused.

That made me smile a little. “No, or, I don't know, Hawke. I like Trinna, and trust her judgment. Alistair is usually decent enough. They are handsome and far too sympathetic to be nobles and Wardens. They should be good.”

Hawke sighed and gave me a weak smile. “You're more than enough, Anders, even if you've been different since we returned here.”

Feeling better, I carefully pulled her forward and down and into my lap on the floor. I thought she was a little stiff, but she relaxed a little. “I want to be the mage I was at the Vigil again. Working hard, but playing harder.” I paused, still afraid with how fragile this was. “Were you returning your earring?”

Hawke touched her damaged earlobe and sounded shocked. “No, I thought it was still there.”

“You weren't ending our marriage?” That handful of words felt like they were ripped from my heart.

Dera stiffened. “I wanted to hit you for being stupid and _had_ to get out. We won't be safe if you use magic to influence others. I hated Idunna and that damn knife. You could have made enemies of two of the most powerful people in Ferelden, just to amuse yourself.”

“I won't use it on others, love.” I took a careful breath, worried about saying the wrong thing in this fragile peace. Scrambling for a less heavy topic, I said, “We should let the lobe toughen for a day or so before we redo it.” I shimmied against her. “Forgive me?”

“Always, but sometimes it's a little slower than others.”

Sliding my fingers along edge of her armor, I pulled her closer. “I thought you might have been angry about company.”

“That didn't help either.”

“That was part of sex outside the Circle and even more in Kinloch. Every tryst had the danger of being caught, but it was one thing _they_ couldn't completely control. _Any_ time with you would have been worth the risk, Dera.”

Hawke's finger traced my jawline lightly enough that she only disturbed my stubble. The bubble of pain began to dissolve, thank Andraste.

“You are far too clothed, my Champion.” I started to help remove the armor in my way. Hawke pouted that I had less to remove until it didn't matter.

A rapping at the door made me realize that it was already late afternoon. The door opened, and Warden Tabris stepped in before we untangled from the sheets. “The Commander is expecting you to appear in a quarter-hour to finish your report. I will be assembling the messages to leave tomorrow. Do you understand, Wardens?”

His voice was caustic.

Hawke sat up a little. “I may not remember it very well, but aren't Landsmeets usually finished by now? It's Solace... maybe August already.”

“The entertainment has thinned for the Commander. The longest was a dozen weeks in what records have remained, but that was another age when Marlak the Elder sought the Banns' approval for a larger navy. This is the longest since the Storm age.” Tabris looked tired.

I asked, even if I suspected. “Why haven't they finished?”

He looked at me as if I was stupid. “The mage-Templar war, of course. All at Landsmeet and many who can't get in, want their say: to confirm the Templars' rights or stay out of it completely. The ambassadors all want support for their own wars, or at least no interference. Some want to cede more authority to the Templars, much like what the Wardens officially have for the Blight but more sweeping and permanent.

“The queen refuses to cede her authority to any group that is not loyal to her first. You cannot be found here, mage.” He smiled with irony. “What does it say when a Tevinter general is the most reasonable ambassador at Landsmeet?”

“If I learned anything in Kirkwall, it is that squabbling will be usually be ended by things getting worse.” Hawke's frowned. “We'll finish our report and get out of the city.”

I smiled. I wasn't looking for trouble. The Warden was trained for politics by her father.

We washed quickly and returned to the study in our uniforms. 

There were no seats in front of the desk this time.

Cousland was in full uniform this time and seated. A glaring Alistair stood to her right and behind her, and Tabris was seated with a pile of papers and quills.

I was going to be dressed down again, but it shouldn't hurt as much. It was only Wardens.

“This time, Wardens, I will get that full and complete report. One without any of your Void-blasted games, mage.” Her tone was clipped, and what she rarely addressed to me.

This time I narrated those events in a more concise manner. We covered the tainted Magister of the old Imperium and how those Marcher Wardens thought to profit. It was hard for me to describe the visions and auditory hallucinations, and we had more trouble admitting how badly Justice was affected. Hawke took over the report with a reassuring hand squeeze.

Hawke brought out the records we'd scavenged and I finished the sketches and maps I'd started yesterday. There really wasn't that much for Alistair to criticize unless you agreed that keeping a Darkspawn alive had a purpose. I wasn't sure they agreed with our theory that this... laboratory was where the Fade had been breached.

That was more like a research study if Corypheus was dead.

That would also make for a book to rival one of Genetivi's. For the first time, I was glad it was going to be recorded by Varric instead of that Chantry scholar.

After we answered questions, sketched, described Larius, and displayed the ancient Warden armor until I was drained, my stomach rumbled from my hunger. Hawke kept shifting her stance slightly.

The deep silence otherwise stretched out as Tabris took the stack of notes and parchments away. 

Finally, I couldn't stand the delay and hearing Hawke's stomach rumble again. “Trinna, look, Hawke didn't know...”

“Commander,” Alistair insisted with a snap to his voice. “This is at least the second time he tried to shield her from acts you both did. What makes you think we'll believe you a second time?”

“Because thinking with my balls makes me many kinds of stupid?” I couldn't even fake a smile.

“How much control do you have over your magic, Anders?” the Commander shot out.

I hung my head as that worried me sometimes. “Usually complete control. Justice can take control if I am hurt, sleeping, he's training or angry enough, or we go to the Fade through magic. He panicked at that Vimmark prison. But other than that...” 

Listed like that, I wasn't in control of my magic far too often.

She still had an edge to her voice. “Do you have control when you are intimate like that? Did you deliberately cast that spell, or is there some kind of lust demon involved in that blasted scene?

I looked at Hawke, and bit my lip. What I saw showed her unhappiness too. “I had complete control over my magic and cast that spell to make it more fun. Nothing more complex.”

Alistair leaned forward. “Your _spirit_ didn't decide to cast the spell on us; he didn't even suggest it?”

I had to laugh, even if it wasn't funny at all. “Justice doesn't approve of distractions like sex. He almost kind of sulks away for a while and I can be just Anders again.”

Justice knew this, like I remembered some arguments by him.

Attryne frowned for a moment and then relaxed.

I had to convince them. “He doesn't think much of some spells I have. His abilities in the Fade were more fluid and direct. He can't heal and would prefer if I was more a war mage with a blade instead of staff.”

“Really?” Alistair sounded more like a snobby Orlesian skeptic.

Stepping toward the door, I admitted my shame. “He's still skillful even using a mage's body if you want to see. I'm just not very comfortable with it.”

“When we finish here, Wardens,” Cousland interrupted. “Alright, Anders. So how often you get off is evidence that you aren't becoming a bat-shit crazy abomination?”

Our later days before the battle at the Gallows had been sex-free because of Vengeance's plans. “I guess so, Commander.”

Then I saw Hawke's face fall, and after the fight last night I reviewed what was just said. I grabbed her hands. “Love, it's not that. Even after the Deep Roads expedition, your company was all I needed. Maker, if I wanted to use you like that, it would not have been three years of waiting when I had friends like Isabela and the workers at the Rose.”

I heard a whisper of, 'Three years?' from behind me.

Hawke smiled slightly. “When we were at the base of that prison tower, Justice warned us before he reached a crisis. They weren't that effective either when they acted. _They were fighting it_ , and that is all you can ask.” She turned and gave the Commander a hard look and a longer glare at Alistair. _“I assassinated the man I loved._ I promised him after Kirkwall I would not let him become a threat like that... lose himself like that, again. The Joining oath means a bit less, though I will honor it.”

Alistair wasn't happy, but the Commander didn't object.

My smile felt crooked and I hugged her close. “I love you, Dera.”

A cough came from Trinna. “Now that the mushy stuff is over. I'd like to see if Justice really can still fight.”

“ _ **I discourage the mage from falsehoods. We made attempts last winter at sparring, but our body lacks the conditioning for endurance, against even Hawke.”**_

** The Templar looked doubtful. **

** The Commander led us into the lower levels into an armory.  **

** The Templar looked at us with an expected superior smile while we selected a great sword. “You stand differently.” **

** I took a stance once I adjusted to the blade. The mage was gleeful when the Commander called the start. **

** Ignoring the shield starting to come forward to smash into the frailer mage's body, I used the smite on him before it hit us. **

** The mage wanted us to laugh. **

** Knocking the shield aside  from the dazed Templar , it clattered against the stone. I forced his blade  and arm down  with a small crack as he shook his head. His grip  held firm  through his pain , but I said, _“Yield or die.”_ **

** He let go his blade with a wide-eyed expression that wasn't anger or fear. His brow creased in some kind of thought. “You are _not_ a mage.” **

“ _ **I am Justice. The blade is my weapon.”**_

“Fine. Be that way. You really aren't any fun to spar with.” Alistair pouted through wet eyes. 

I'd swear to it, the warrior _was_ pouting. I heard a muffled snicker behind me, but didn't turn to look. “Justice is not that good at the sparring concept. That's why we stopped.” 

My muscles had been strained and I could feel his annoyance that we had not trained as we'd planned last winter. A bit of healing healed most of the fracture.

Cousland said, “That was always nice about Anders. Morrigan didn't do much healing and Wynne thought a little pain builds character.”

“Have you heard from her? I'd really like to talk to her.” _I wondered how many mages with spirits were like us or like her?_

“Last summer, she was planning to go to Orlais. She'd spent years in Cumberland, but Orlais is getting unstable and she might think it a better idea to go there and help.” Cousland's arms were crossed.

Hawke sighed. “I don't think Orlais is a good idea for us.”

“I wish I could help here, Trinna.” My appearing there would probably tip the Landsmeet against mages.

One of the Silver Order guards reminded them of an event and the Commander told us, “Stay out of sight, and I'd prefer you get away from Denerim after I send out the reports. Cleared of names, of course. By the time other Commanders ask for details, I can decide which names to use. Do you think this Varric would be willing to be helpful?”

Hawke laughed. “A little, as long as you tell him some stories of events he didn't see. He won't stop writing the blighted things and his stories may be annoying in many ways, but he's a good friend in every other way.”

They left for some Landsmeet gathering. Tabris went too, leaving only the Silver Order and servants who didn't know us other than as Brana and Heysal.

The next morning, a pounding came against our door mid-morning. Hawke and I blinked sleep out of our eyes. 

Like yesterday, it was the elven Warden, Tabris. But this time, he wasn't full of contempt. “The Commander wants you in her study. The Qunari have taken Kirkwall.”


	15. Captain Isabela's log: Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The winds blow Isabela's ship, free from the battles she has no hand in.

_** The Waking Sea, aboard the Sea Cockerels off Brendal's Reach ** _

\- _**Isabela's log, 2**_ _ **4**_ _ **Solace**_

Zevran wanted some equipment in Kirkwall, so we put in to resupply, like a good little trader. The docks were active and we had no trouble putting in even without a lord. Gave men three nights' shore leave, and directions to the _Rose_ if they needed them. Caz will show them the cheap joints if they want a thrill. Didn't spot Man-hands, but her man put on weight, so they must be good.

That city kept changing every time we made port. I didn't see any sign of Lady Elegant in the rebuilt market.

Stopped in to get drunk with Varric, but he had his hands full with a couple of dwarves from Orzammar. They weren't any fun and wouldn't even play diamondback with me. 

Wendon found some good leads for cargo off Alamar to that new elven port village between Amaranthine and Denerim. Short hauls, but Fereldan harbors have been buttoned down for months since before their nobles started that meeting of theirs. The new elf portmaster is a bit more... persuadable and hungry for cargo.

We can lay low and still profit for a while. These wars aren't any fun.

_ \-- x -- _

\- _**Isabela's log, 1 August**_

Sighted a group of ships passing between our position and Ostwick. We tacked and moved back and away from the main shipping lane, closer to Amaranthine in case of trouble. They didn't follow us, which was very good.

What was not so good was that it was a combat group of horn heads sailing west. That was too big a ship to be cargo and Qunari don't trade. They don't believe in profit. Or fun.

They believe they have a direct line to the Maker that they know what everyone should be. Join their herd and provide their wool, use that qamek to make sure.

I saw that when my unlamented husband got hold of some to 'tame' me to be content with him. If he was so unhappy he should have taken it and he wouldn't be unhappy anymore. Problem solved.

But if the Hornheads take someplace like Val Chevin, Highever, or Cumberland, we'll all be sheep to their sheepdog. 

With all the fighting, it will be easy for them. Then they bring out that poison for survivors who don't want to be sheep. They'd use that crud on me in a minute. I'm what I made myself and not what my elders wanted.

I wouldn't look good in that clothing and I couldn't have any fun after that qamek... I'd be...

Tranquil.

I wouldn't like being hung as a pirate, but I'd still be me. 

_** \- 2 August ** _

Only one day, and I don't know what port they were attacking, but I know people in all of them. Zev and I spoke, but Kirkwall and Cumberland would be the sweetest targets. Knowing Varric or even Man-hands might only be fit for shoveling shit doesn't set well.

Some of my favorite ports would become drab and colorless, full of nameless people without style. They even preach how wonderful it is to lose their choices and even their names for their place. Worse, they don't have sex for fun, only to make babies.

How awful.

How do people live with being trapped? I'd start running around and stabbing the nearest Qunari just to _make_ it stop. I couldn't even have a good brawl or lay to relax. The _Pearl_ , the _Rose_ , even the _Golden Song_ in Val Royeaux would all disappear.

I don't know what to do, these ports are as far as you can get from their territories. Zevran suggested we put in at Amaranthine, there should be news. 

I do not want them taking away _my_ ports. 


	16. A Little Housecleaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethany won't say she was thrilled to be left reducing the Vimmark prison to harmless rubble, but Fenris isn't sure what he wants until it is too late. Donnic arrives far too early for their weekly supply run.

** Former  ** ** Grey Warden ** ** Prison, Vimmark Wilderness **

** \- Fenris **

I hated cleaning, hated using tiny brushes for deliberate messes. Worse was how it clung to my hair and how I had to endure vile scents that weren't just in the air but _inside_ my nose. 

Smells climbed back up and inside my nose and brought back more memories of Minrathous and Danarius' country villa. Strong smells sometimes brought back flashes of... before. Before the Magister destroyed Leto to make me. 

Pleasant smells rarely brought any memories, and it wasn't the stinks of a dying or dead body that broke me. That required blood magic and Magisters. Then I relived the agonies of dying for an instant that was forever. Corpses and blood and shit weren't anything, not compared to the ichors and the feeling of magic ripping me apart.

I couldn't explain that and was... hesitant to tell Bethany. 

She was so clean and innocent, fresh air that chased away the stink. The gale I never expected to meet, a mage who did not plague my life. Bethany was a powerful mage and Grey Warden, but she didn't have the arrogance and superiority of every other mage I'd met. She treated everyone the same, that she was no more important than the people around her.

That _ **I**_ was important. That I should have nice things too.

She was puzzled when she heard I had never cleaned up Danarius' mansion when I waited for him to come after me. She never saw the dried out bodies and mess left there. I didn't want to admit I didn't want to change anything from the last time she was there with Hawke. I probably might have if she'd come back from the Deep Roads, but letting them rot away slowly seemed right.

I could remember when Bethany had been there, bright and compassionate and beautiful.

But becoming a Warden sounded like a death sentence, and after a few years I doubted I'd see her again. After the abom... Anders' attack, Bethany appeared in her Warden armor. Bethany looked a little harder, a little more worn, but the sun rose again when she smiled at me. That was all too short as she returned to the Deep Roads and my existence had no purpose other than eating and finding the occasional pleasure.

Months of that and both Hawkes blew in again, seeking enemies that dared attack a Warden base and the depths of Orzammar. 

Hawke and Anders were remarkably unchanged for fugitives, mainly that they were both quieter and the mage wore the blue and greys. But I was happier to see Bethany, without other Wardens to demand her attention and duty. The irony of that was revealed when Hawke had had a Joining, too. 

At times in the depths, I looked at Varric, because the focus and resiliency they all had now was a little daunting. They might dislike or hate the Deep Roads but they were of it as well.

Bethany was still sweet and kind as well as determined now, beautiful inside and out. I had not expected our sudden relationship anymore than the fears when the tainted Magister affected our minds.

I hoped we had destroyed him and did not begrudge the effort to destroy his works, even if Varric left for Kirkwall. This would never again be a stronghold for another Magister.

Our group of Wardens and myself were nearly down to the ground level, and Bethany considered the pools of glowing water between other tasks. It reminded me of vile liquids seen in laboratories outside Minrathous, but I didn't want to guess how much it was.

One warm night Donnic arrived at our camp. He was wounded, his arm roughly strapped to his front.

I dashed forward to support him and see if he was being followed. “My friend, what happened?”

“Qunari! Three ships sailed into harbor and took the docks before moving out into the city. I don't know what happened to Aveline. The part of Lowtown I was patrolling was hit by the dreadnaught's fire and was burning. The fires blocked any escape but here. I don't know what they wanted, but...” His control slipped badly when he was reminded of what happened.

“They respected Hawke as Champion. They think it ripe to conquer and redeem their loss of face from their defeat.” I glared back the way Donnic had come.

Bethany snorted, but pulled the Guardsman to sit down to tend his injuries, in a sure and experienced manner.

The dwarven Warden lost her smile, though the skull tattoo seemed unchanged.  “We aren't supposed to get involved in other wars. But then again the Qunari haven't  made any treaties with us either. The Commander fought with one in the Blight,  but they haven't seemed convinced. We may have a few of their renegades, but their leadership... We need to move through cit ies and lands of theirs during Blights and to get to other posts. If they interfere  with  _me_ , like they bothered Wardens last time  they invaded ... I may change my mind,  unless I die first .”

S he ordered  the shifty smuggler Selco to  record remaining tasks.  A clean escape path  had a higher priority.  We didn't hurry despite how frantic Donnic was, as the fire had to die down. Bethy was upset, but her ice magic didn't do much against large fires.

When we set off, Commander Sigrun planned to leave half the Wardens here on guard. The second-most senior, Bethany, objected for the human Wardens. Selco and Alvirr had friends in the city. After this many weeks there wasn't that much left so we made a group of six Wardens, plus Donnic, Bethany, and me. 

The hidden path wasn't as hidden anymore. The city wall that held the hidden gate had collapsed. Bethany frowned when she used some ice spells to cool our path. This section of Lowtown was in smoking ruins. I saw only a few bodies, but the lack of movement and rescuers or people seeking survivors said nothing had settled. The attack had not been beaten back. 

“Who would gather a counterattack?” Bethany looked at me, but I didn't know.

“Perhaps the Knight Captain, but he has not been promoted because he has allowed some mages out for approved projects. But he lacks anything close to the force under Meredith.” Donnic's voice was weak and shaken.

We crossed only part of Lowtown before we encountered a group of Guard under attack, and Donnic charged forward, _alive again_. One was a Sarabas, who used fire and fear magic on the Guard. 

I charged at him, paralyzing his heart mid-spell before ripping it out. He would expect no less than our duty as defenders. 

Bethany flattened most of the group, allowing the Guardsmen enough time to to rally and finish the skirmish. The Wardens didn't laugh, but they were not exerting themselves to finish those that attacked them. I looked around the open area that had mostly burnt rubble, but I saw no other survivors.

Sigrun stomped over to Donnic and kicked his knee out and he dropped. Grabbing the top of his collar and yanking until they were face to face, and she snarled at the Guard. “Alright, duster, you are under _my orders_ until this is over. You rush forward like that again, and I will let you go and deliver my condolences to your kin. We are a Warden group and we will act like a unit. Do you understand me?”

Donnic glared at her as he rubbed his knee. Then he nodded.

Sigrun waved Bethy forward and she healed his injuries. We moved off through a burning Kirkwall. Further from the harbor the fires got smaller, and the stonework got more massive where the fires could not spread as well. After that point, fires were at the center of fighting or wreckage.

We saw a few, very few bodies of Kirkwall Guard. Donnic checked every one, a little desperately, both upset and relieved. He was quieter than Aveline and followed Sigrun's lead. I was not sure he would not fold, but there wasn't anything to say until we found out.

We reached one of the great stairs up to Hightown. There was no sign of merchants or craftsmen.

I did not like that it looked clear of Qunari or defenders. 

I did not trust the silence.

When we reached a turn near the top, javelins fell from above in a volley that was carried by their shouts. 

I  heard  Beth any cry  out in all that noise and the ripple of her magic failed . 

_Venhedis!_ Another volley ripped at her as she was knocked off her feet by the force of the heavy missiles. I leaped towards her, trying to reach her before she fell off the stair. 

Bethany hit the rail and the javelins caught on it. She did nothing to prevent it when one ripped out through her side.

Was she already dead?

So soon? Before my eyes?

I reached her and stopped her slide, trying not to do more damage. Her heart still beat and I carried her down as the Wardens carried the fight without us. 

Once I had retreated to some cover, I placed her carefully down. I removed the remaining point from her shoulder while I was in my ghost state. With shaking hands I slopped potions on the wounds and tried to get her to swallow some.

The bleeding only slowed.

She didn't wake and I checked again to be sure that her heart still beat.

“Think she's gonna make it?” a dwarven Warden asked from above me.

“She has not died yet.” I knew only rough bandaging. I knew of only one place better. If it still existed after this chaos. “There is a place in Darktown that might help.”

The mage had his assistants and they should have supplies.

Sigrun looked at the injuries across her group. “We can forget about open travel. This is a planned expedition. Is there something they would want?”

Donnic's face flushed. “They held the city ages ago, but don't ask me which. They thought us vermin and Aveline... They blamed her for abuses that have existed since the Magisters lost their slave port. She works long and hard to keep the city as sane as it is.” 

“Some may have escaped the fight in the Viscount's throne room almost five years ago. They lost the fight in a city that was nothing they respected. To them it was weak, a fruit to pluck.” I started to gather Beth in my arms. Carefully I moved in the direction of a lift down into Darktown.

“Where can we take her, any healers or surgeons in this village?” Sigrun looked at the other injuries, then nodded. “We don't need healers for minor hits, but this is beyond our healing abilities.”

Donnic looked around. “We're not far from one of the Gallows' healers, but they aren't open every day. The Darktown one always has someone.”

There was almost no direct damage in Darktown, and many were hiding like rats. It was too quiet for the crowded and dark spaces. I could see which of them had hidden down here before, they were quieter. The better dressed ones, in linen and dirtied cotton, started at tiny noises.

I watched Beth breathe as often as I could.

What was clear was the trail of blood from injuries, converging on the clinic. The red lamps were worn and dim, but workers were sorting new arrivals. They could be identified by the worn clothing and aprons.

Sigrun sprang up the last stairs, ahead of me. “Is there a healer here?”

A woman with a blood smeared apron and patches of white hair at her temples spoke, her voice tired as she brushed a darker strand out of her eyes. “We've all been trained, but treatment will be for need, not because of your weapons. This is a safe place for healing.”

I knew the one man, but he was working on a young man who had a deep slash in his arm. The shelf the mage kept potions and salves on before was now a larger shelf, but wasn't as full. I smelled the nauseating smell of potions brewing floating from further in. “She can heal, but _we_ cannot heal her.”

“This Warden is a mage?” The woman was suspicious.

Walda, the other dwarf, looked up. “This Grey Warden is the Champion's sister.”

The woman looked over our group with a critical eye. 

“Ask that man over there, he's seen me here before.” I wasn't sure he'd remember me well or if he would help me despite my arguments with the mage. “This _is_ Hawke's sister. One javelin was ripped out when she fell. I don't know what else she needs.” 

I wanted to plead, but didn't know how, now that it wasn't to a Magister.

“Fine, bring her in here. We could use reinforcements.” She grumbled as she went to one of the inner tables and splashed it with water from a basin. 

With a wave from her, a puff of warm air rose as I moved over to set Beth down. She was a mage and healer. The other Wardens were directed to other workers for inspection.

“I am Catalin. This is?” She was gruff as she examined the raw wounds that only bled sluggishly.

I did not see any immediate healing, not like the bright light of the mage nor softer light of Bethy's healing. “Bethany Hawke. I am Fenris.”

“Hmm, I heard of you, but no one mentioned how delicious those tattoos made you.” She was checking Beth's skull as well. “You got the points out, right smart. Can you teach others the trick? We're going to need it.”

“It killed others than myself in Minrathous...” I thought Bethy's breathing was slower. “Heal her!”

“Deeper muscles and arteries were damaged, but she's stable there, for now. I want to see if there's anything besides the hollow in the side of her skull and hope not too much sloshed when she fell.”

I gripped Beth's hand. Too many head injuries and they lost something.

The glow began under the other mage's hands and spread away into Beth. It wasn't a wave like Anders, more like a fountain, or water pipe.

Would she have enough? “We have some lyrium. If that helps.”

Her teeth clenched, Catalin said, “You could have said that before. As long as it isn't that red shit.”

I got a bottle from Beth's pouch, hoping I'd be able to ask forgiveness later. The mage paused to sip from the vial and cradled her fingers around Beth's head.

I bared my teeth, that a stranger and mage was holding her head like that. It was bad enough that the abomination was that free.

Beth opened her eyes and blinked, before touching her side and groaning.

I gripped her hands in mine, afraid to touch any closer to those usually fatal injuries.

“Young lady, I know that you Wardens like to go charging ahead and all that death before bandaging nonsense, but you should know better. They have heavier armor and thicker skulls, you stay with the archers.” Catalin delivered her orders in a snappish voice.

Beth winced less and less as she was healed, though she rolled her eyes at Catalin and me.

“Catalin, I know there is a lost training school for mages, so maybe you would accept a copy of the manual as thanks from the Grey Wardens.” Sigrun leaned against the pillar, as if she had been watching too.

“That has fascinating potential. Was it successfully used to train?” Catalin was leaning on the table, looking intrigued by new knowledge.

Sigrun stood upright again. “A handful have learned it, two I know personally. A duster has to be skilled and disciplined first.”

Catalin smiled at that. “That has potential, I may try to test that after this had passed.”

“What happened, Commander?” Bethany tried to sit up.

The clinic mage pushed her back down, not avoiding the shoulder that recently had a javelin through it.

Beth cried out and sank back.

I wanted to strike, but as soon as Beth stopped resisting, Catalin's hand was left in midair. 

“You will rest here, until you have _finished_ healing. If you want to be useful, you can roll bandages or measure out potion ingredients until dark. We will make sure you all are better before you go out to get yourselves hurt again. That's not my job.”

Sigrun was grinning, but stopped and leaned forward. “You know something. Do you know where sparklefingers is?”

At the healer's baffled look, I explained. “Anders.”

“Him? No, there've been sightings of him every few weeks, with or without the Champion. They're not here. These people who work here are _**all**_ convinced they would have acted by now. We have our own problems like hoping that there is a cure for the qamek poison they already used on some loudmouths.” Catalin sat on a crate heavily after moving things aside. “Fighting centered around the Guard and Templars, though now it's nobles, rogues, and merchants, as they won't fare too well either. They took the Gallows first, and something was done to all the mages they let be seen since. I haven't been back.”

She looked at Donnic where he was pacing. “He's the first guard I've seen since the Captain told us to get out.”

Donnic looked up from the corner inside the entrance. “Which Captain?”

“Cullen. He asked me to find and get the younger ones out of the fighting, but the Maker knows that they don't deserve that poison.” Catalin looked exhausted.

Donnic sagged.

The injured were thinning out inside the clinic, even with new groups arriving. There was still a crowd milling outside the entrance. A squad of horned Qunari reached the ledge on the other side and looked over towards the clinic, but didn't approach, contempt on their faces.

“We should have at least an hour until their next patrol. Elessah! I should return later tonight from Lowtown.” Catalin stood with a battered cane taken from the pile of crutches and canes by the entrance.

She led us further past the entrance but still in the cavern. 

When I looked out the open windows a heavy ship was moving inward toward the docks. The old Imperial slave statues in the deep passage mocked my freedom.

The hole we arrived at looked like a long blocked mine shaft, but the stone lid came off easily with a touch. It only appeared to be stone. One of the grimy Darktown people helped Catalin without a word. The others in the small chamber ignored us.

We climbed down, and even Bethany got down without injury. The sound of stone against stone made it seem like a catacomb for the dead. The passage was dark, but when we moved forward, Beth lit her staff and we saw torches to light. After a turn we came into light and found sign of people. 

In a hasty camp we found several mages and a few Templars. Keran I recognized from when Anders had been kidnapped. He was uninjured, but possibly the oldest of the Templars. He looked behind us as if expecting more.

Bethany stepped forward, her Warden robes still bloody. “What do you know?”

He stood, glad to report to someone. “Warden Hawke, they brought three capital ships and the largest swarmed our walls. The captain asked for volunteers to give a token fight. Most of us are in the deeper caverns with some light, we're an outpost here...”

Sigrun stepped forward. “Wardens, set up a good trap for them if they follow us in, then get to the other end of this Deep Road and do the same. We can hold this tunnel for a while, especially if there's any spiders down here. Once that's up we'll start a walkabout for supplies and any other Wardens trapped in this mess too.”

“Commander, we can't just do nothing!” Donnic tried to loom over her.

“We're not doing nothing. We will establish a thaig, a base to build on in the city and we can't stay up in the clinic forever.” Sigrun glared up at him, tapping her foot.

Catalin tapped her cane on a crate. “No, you cannot. No one knows how many followers of the Qun were living here in Kirkwall to betray our presence. They could be elves or humans, I haven't heard of any dwarves in the Qun. The clinic was here, and is seen as necessary as long as they think it's all potions and surgery. Darktown protects its own, but refugees from Hightown and beyond are not truly of Darktown.”

“Has anyone heard of Captain Aveline?” Donnic pleaded, but no one answered.

Sigrun said after a moment, “I doubt the Chantry or the Empress will sit still if Kirkwall is lost, this close to them, is taken again. Would they try to pull off one of those Marches? What others might react?”

Unspoken, but in her tone was the knowledge that the Wardens could escape. Bethany or I might try for that path we traveled after Meredith died.

Catalin sighed. “I can't say I want to be in the destination of a March, but there's not many good places to go right now either.”

Keran looked embarrassed, but spoke. “Sers, I don't think there's enough to assemble a March. The Captain received and gave us notice from Knight Vigilant Bertre that we no longer answer to the Divine. I don't know what that means, I'm not privy to his thoughts. We were told by the Knight-Captain to accommodate the Grand Cleric when we can.”

Selco laughed bitterly. “As if the Sisters would ever let us forget if they came to help.”

With a snarl, Bethany's hand shook from her anger. “What good is vigilance if all die in Kirkwall?”

I put my arms around her. “We hoped the madness here would fade after Corypheus' destruction.”

“Not soon enough. Tit for tat is fine for a card game, but this is insane and _we_ hold some responsibility as the Maker's children to fix it.” Her eyes were damp.

I didn't like the guilt on her face. I understood it. 

“So no March. What about Nevarra or Cumberland? They're big enough and close enough to do something effective.” Sigrun looked at the Kirkwall Wardens.

Pieces of the situation in the Marches came from different people in the cavern, but Ostwick was free mage. Starkhaven's Knight Commander had taken that tower and possibly annulled it. Cumberland mages allowed Chantry in but not Templars. Orlais was burning mages and conflicting rumors were flying out every day about looming civil war. Nevarra lost a city to Tevinter and was arming against more. Rivain had no news, nor did the closer Ferelden.

Beth relaxed at that. I didn't want to tell her that no news was more alarming in a time of war. 

Chatter sprang up with the fugitives in the cavern, asking about news and conditions above.

I leaned against Bethany to whisper in the scant privacy. “Let me stay, stay with me. How or where doesn't matter as much as that we try.” She was speechless in surprise and I added, “There is no normal life for one like me. So I choose a special life with...”

Before I could finish my sentence, Bethany kissed me. I didn't know if it was her magic that swelled around us or my own abilities but we rode on its wave until I could finally breathe again and the dizziness faded.

A whistle echoed off the walls of the cavern, but no one said anything when I glared at each of them.

A smiling Sigrun clapped her hands to get our attention. “Later. Anyone know a good way out of the thaig if it comes to that?”

“There is a way to the north out not far that was rarely guarded,” Donnic said with a cough. “Smugglers used it the most, but it's too small for troops or heavy freight.”

“How did you enter Kirkwall?” Catalin finally asked us.

Bethany answered. “A close path from a Warden prison full of darkspawn and probably the source of the weakness in the Veil in Kirkwall. It has been cleared, but I plan to seek those at Kinloch to strengthen it again as soon as we can.”

I had not heard that plan, but I approved.

Sigrun added. “We do not suggest anyone go there until it has been finished, unless you have a secret wish to become tainted.”

“So you are all we get, unless Starkhaven, Ferelden, or Orlais decides they want gain a port.” Catalin sat on a rock.

Sigrun laughed. “I'm dead, what do I have to worry about? But the Blight was defeated by two Grey Wardens, and you have...seven. We're like bad coins, we keep turning up at the oddest times. I'll wager you more will come to the party too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon.


	17. Inner Councils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cat (not Anders) is among the pigeons when news of the attack reached Denerim. Queen Anora does not want the Qun that close and Landsmeet will get in an uproar, won't it?

**Denerim, the Arlessa of Amaranthine's mansion and then study**

**Hawke:**

I was content to sleep in after the strain of such an important argument. Anders was still more than half asleep, holding me close. When he woke, I was sure he'd want another round more than breakfast.

Warden Tabris' entry sent that interlude into the void, so Anders and I scrambled into our blue and grays. When we entered Cousland's study, she and Alistair were standing over a map of Thedas and marking the map with tokens. The tokens were crude, but it was clearly a war map.

She looked up, wearing her dragonskin armor with the modified crest for Amaranthine. “This is a copy of the one Anora has, but I'm undecided as to whether to let her know you are here. As Champion, you are a much more useful symbol than as a Grey Warden...”

Alistair made a noise.

“Don't look at me like that, Alistair, this impacts Wardens serving in the area, too. There's a small safehouse there and that prison still to deal with. Qunari might ignore or respect us as individuals, but the Grey Wardens have made no agreements with them for even neutrality, nor am I convinced the Accord meant a thing when they decide to attack. You were in uniform five years ago and you would have died or been reeducated if they had kept Kirkwall. I have not forgiven them that.” Cousland's jaw was set.

I didn't blame elves for converting. “Some in the city will welcome them, like in the Alienage or Darktown. But most are still afraid of the horn-heads, and they like that fear. They're nearly as big as ogres, but way smarter in combat.” 

“Love, some of the broodmothers near Ka'Hirol had horns. I've never seen a Tal-Vashoth female but some must have been lost to make ogres.” Anders looked almost ill as he spoke.

Anders said something like that when he explained more about the Wardens after Kirkwall, but it hadn't quite seemed relevant... then. I looked at the tokens marked with the Qunari nested squares placed at for Pol Vollen and Kirkwall. “So if they move into areas with more darkspawn, we'll have a higher proportion of ogres in a few years?”

Not that I wanted other women to be captured, I wanted _no one_ to be captured, but ogres were the hardest to kill... much like the Arishok in that way.

“Champion, I believe your presence must be revealed to the Queen and maybe even the Grand Cleric. I doubt Anora will provide much in the way of troops, but...” The Warden was eying the three different tokens in Orlais.

My stomach filled with acid. I did not like the idea of working with the Chantry in anything. 

Anders took my hand in an iron grip, though his face was flat.

“I will be summoned to court when the Queen plans her response. I dare not delay when I am. Hawke... are you willing to fight them again?” At my brief nod, she turned to Alistair. “Get the mage out of here and back to the Vigil and safety.”

“I can take care of myself!” Anders began to glow. “And _**we**_ are not leaving!”

Alistair glared at Anders. “Do you think I like this either?” 

“Both of you, shut it. Do you have a better idea? We cannot have the _Scourge_ emerge publicly in Denerim wearing Grey Warden uniform. Anora would have my head, or you will have to take the throne to get me out, Alistair.”

“No, Attryne! _I am not leaving,_ I don't want to be safe at the Vigil! I do _not_ want the throne. I do not want an arranged marriage to please Eamon. I want to marry _you._ ” Alistair was nearly spitting with anger.

C ousland glared back at him,  just as angry . “Really? It's been how many years since you lost your virginity and you haven't even  _ really _ asked me to marry you.  You just like things the way you are. For Andraste's sake,  _ Anders, the slut, _ got married! I'm just to scratch an itch before a battle or for  a fast  fucking after a  boring  state dinner.  What else can I think about the king's son  who  won't make the effort to marry with out his  _ negligent _ foster fath er ' s approval?  Who measures up to  _ his _ standard?  I hear  the Empress  Celine is  unmarried or maybe one of the  Pentaghast s . ”

I gripped Anders' hand, because I didn't want to be here for their fight. He'd flushed because he made this worse.

Alistair couldn't speak for a long moment, his mouth hanging open, but then he seized Cousland and kissed her deeply. “Marry me. Trinna? I'm a nameless bastard with nothing to give you. Marry me anyway.”

Cousland said, “Yes.” 

Neither of them spoke for a while. Anders squeezed my hand, and I saw the faintest of smiles on his face. We stayed quiet and I pretended to not be present. I really didn't want their attention and looked at the map. Tokens for Warden bases, armed forces for nations and Templars were scattered around the board. Most towers had both Templar and Circle token. Cumberland only had a Circle. I didn't know all the symbols.

Starkhaven only had their royal arms and a Templar blade. I wondered if Sebastian was there and if he was okay.

I looked at Kirkwall again. Aveline and Varric were there. Bethany and Fenris were close.

There wasn't really a question about my going back.

The Qun gave mages even less freedom than the Chantry, so Anders wasn't in question either.

I really didn't see how a Fereldan army could help, even if the Queen wanted to give it. The streets and Hightown were too easily defended by a small force if it was disciplined. 

Aveline had her men disciplined but she really didn't have enough to defend against an invasion. The Templars were no help the last time and they were weaker now. Kirkwall did not breed for practical leadership.

This was planned. The Qunari did not like our lack of a unified society. We heard rumors, but Rivain was their usual expansion area along with constant skirmishing with Tevinter. 

Anders choked out quietly. “We fought Meredith a year ago, yesterday.”

The months had passed quicker than I realized. The pain felt fresh again, but so much had changed, too.

Over two thirds of the tokens were for fighting that began after that day. The Qunari wanted to fill the void they helped make.

“I still wonder what they wanted of us on that scout ship.” I had been worried at the time. _Had Isabela heard_ _about Kirkwall, or was she in port_ _?_

“They respected you, love, but 'bas' is a thing, not a person. They probably wanted to reeducate you.” Anders' whisper was still strained.

“Did they know anything about what you'd use the recipe on?” 

Cousland and Alistair were listening to us now.

Anders looked bleak. “They probably thought I was going to use it on the Templars in the Gallows. But I tested it and I just would have to be too close to the mages. The Circle would have all been killed.”

That made Cousland snort. “They expected you to destroy the Gallows and the defenses of Kirkwall. Must have been a rude shock when it held together.”

“You have their recipe for explosives?” Alistair looked annoyed.

“It's harder to get components, I think. The explosives that Dworkin used at the Vigil contained lyrium. It's less stable than the Qunari recipe, but may be related. I wasn't about to share their recipe after what happened.” Anders looked guilty.

Attryne smiled nastily. “That may be a useful bargaining chip for Anora. The Orlesian border could be more cheaply secured.”

“That will not help with the Grand Cleric,” Alistair warned.

“Their bickering is what has given both the Qunari and Tevinter opportunity.” Cousland glanced at the map before smirking. “Le could be convinced that Morrigan was as useful as Wynne. Sten wasn't really convinced _anyone_ was useful... You seemed to like Wynne mothering you.”

The warrior made a face, but didn't object.

This was not the most important part. “Commander, I don't think Queen Anora could do that much to help with Kirkwall anyway. The city is a fortress with a maze of streets that make even gathering troops difficult. Hightown might still be holding out for all we know.”

“ _ **They cannot leave the Gallows behind them. It was taken.”**_

No one really reacted to Justice's comment, aside from Alistair's curt nod. I knew there were other ways in and out of Kirkwall, but the largest was through the docks and passing by the Gallows and its fortifications.

“You will need ships, for blockade and the dreadnaught they probably brought.” Alistair pointed at the passage into the city. “If they control the harbor chains you won't have troops coming into the harbor.”

“Whatever we do it will be days before we can get there and they are the defenders now.” I knew the city as well as anyone who wasn't another smuggler, and _they_ would have dropped out of sight. Athenril liked her profit, and I wondered if I could contact her. “We'll need to get in and take down the chain at minimum for any of our reinforcements.”

“The Queen will have news, as might the Grand Cleric.” Cousland said it neutrally.

Anders gripped my hand. “I am not leaving Denerim without you.”

The Commander rubbed her forehead.

“Trinna, the explosive takes rare materials, I don't know if we can afford the time to get them. Qamek is used immediately on anyone they deem unwilling to convert or a problem. Isabela would be immediate because of that tome. There is no more cure for that than Tranquility.” Anders looked ill.

“Kirkwall is much closer than Pol Vollen.” Cousland looked up when Tabris entered.

“Her majesty has called for an immediate audience of the greater nobles. The Arl has canceled his breakfast.”

Cousland was silent. “Warden Hawke, you will accompany me and not in Warden armor. We will set the tone. Mages may be an unknown, but _**you**_ defeated their last attack. You are known. Qunari are known. Anders, you stay here, but you better pray to the Maker that they are more worried about the Qunari than one idiot mage.”

Alistair started smiling.

Cousland shook her head. “You have no rank for the Queen's council, so you stay here, too. Finish the messages, Turtle, date them yesterday, and let loose the pigeons to major posts.”

All too soon I put my Champion armor on, for the first time in months, It looked a little worn, red sections repaired and replaced with black over the years since it was made for me. I'd worn it without a fight far longer than I'd fought in it, but the last year and a half had been hard. Now the small Amell arms was one of the few red parts remaining.

I rushed out of our room and the some of Silver Order seemed surprised by the change, but I had no time to explain.

Cousland looked me over. “It'll do. Wear this cloak until we get there.”

That was pointless. “Why bother? No one else wears a cloak in the summer. Even the Arishok respected balls.”

“You do know Isabela,” Cousland said as we left the mansion. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Off the Daleland last year.” I said before I lost any urge to speak.

We were silent and no one slowed us much as we climbed approach for the mass of royal fortress. I entered the infamous Fort Drakon for the first time. 

Climbing the narrower inside stairs, Cousland said, “Don't worry about it too much, we escaped during the Blight under Loghain's control.”

Her tone of voice said it was bad, and I didn't want to ask for details, especially now.

We climbed the tower and ended up in a large room that had only a few people present. One looked like a Mother, or probably their Grand Cleric, who was short with only partly gray hair. On second look, she was older than she first appeared

“Amaranthine, who have you brought? This is only for Our Council for war, not your guests.” The Queen had much more presence than the last Viscount of Kirkwall.

Cousland bowed. “I bring the one who broke the Qunari attack the last time: Hawke.”

“How dare you bring that maleficar? She must be burnt only after she gives up the Scourge.” The man in armor reached for his sword as to draw it.

I held still, but ready to act.

“Highever! This is _my_ court. And _I decide_ what penalties traitors deserve, not you.” Anora looked pissed at the Teryn's temper. “ _You,_ Champion, how long have you been hiding in my lands?”

I bowed. “Your majesty. On and off for the last year, but I have not been making trouble. I would have moved on, in days or weeks if I had not this news.”

“Blood slave or demon ridden! My cousin was visiting Kirkwall. You helped destroy the Chantry!” This second man wasn't as much a warrior and did not reach for a weapon.

No one else seemed as ready to act, though I suspected there were others available if I went berserk against the Queen.

“I was... nevermind. I did not plan anything that happened to the Chantry. Earlier I urged the Grand Cleric, along with Prince Vael and Sister Nightingale, to leave Kirkwall for her safety. I meant her no ill. What I'm offering is my experience and knowledge of Kirkwall to help take it back from the Qunari. They reeducate everyone taken, destroy families and do their best to erase everything about the Chant in favor of their prophet. They have a poison that _erases minds of everyone they force it on_ to make obedient servants without complaint. Merchants, nobles, sisters, pirates, and only men fight or command troops.” 

I hoped the Tranquil parallel, and that they all would be at risk if the Qun established themselves, sank in. “The Arishok especially enjoyed herding the nobles of Kirkwall in one place to force their submission, by beheading Viscount Dumar in front of those he thought corrupt and useless.”

“You did not care what the Scourge did to all those innocents...” The Grand Cleric stated with less passion.

“Of _course_ I did, I wept for days. I will admit I don't agree that Andraste would approve of separating small children completely from their families or that they should be punished before they have done anything wrong. That debate is for another day and that doesn't mean I think the Qun aren't crazy as a group.”

The Mother seemed more thoughtful, but the Teyrn wasn't any calmer and drew, lunging forward.

“Fergus!” Attryne snapped, but was ignored by her older brother.

I pulled the Bassrath-Kata, and parried before leaping back and drawing a packet. A maid and guards moved the Queen back but no one pushed to leave while I dropped the smoke grenade to disorient Highever. I moved behind him and clipped him behind the ear, hoping it wasn't enough to kill him.

I moved back watching the Chantry woman and the angry cousin but they didn't attack.

The Grand Cleric checked him and said only, “He lives.”

The Queen said dryly to Cousland, “You have an irritating knack for delivering what is needed in a crisis.”

Standing again the Grand Cleric asked, “What will you pledge if we give our approval and support? You speak as to become _viscount_ _ess_ _._ The Qunari must be stopped, but what would you offer that is better than mage rule?”

My stomach rebelled. _O_ _h_ _M_ _aker, I was._

Desperately wishing Anders was here because he was a better speaker, I looked at Cousland. She was looking the tiniest bit smug.

If she thought that would make me her pawn, she had a surprise coming when this was over. “I am sympathetic to mages and their interest. I have never made a secret of that and I would not pretend otherwise. I do not allow blood mages and similar abuses either, we have killed many bloodmages in that city, including Magisters.”

“And the Scourge? Have you killed him?”

“No, and I will not. The first reason is that the Chant says 'unprovoked' and the mages have been provoked for ages by unrestrained Templars like Alrik and Meredith. They must not be above the law any more than the mages they guard. If they are not acting under the law and Chant, they are as dangerous to the faithful and they must be stopped. Power corrupted them.”

The other noble spat.

“Southron, you have a more useful comment?” The Queen's voice was still neutral, but imperative.

“She's seeking power. Her lover started all this,” Arl Southron muttered.

That made me glare at him. “I don't want it _that_ much. I'd rather live in a cabin in the woods; I'd rather people would just grow up and stop hurting others just because they can and it proves they've got a bigger dick. Most of the things I did in Kirkwall was stupid stuff that a ten year old could have solved, but adults were bigger idiots.”

I heard small noise from the Queen. 

Taking a breath, I set my jaw and said, “Qunari are very big dicks, who think converting people to their philosophy by the sword is justified. If their beliefs were that great they would not need a sword. They take away family and faith, and I'll believe they value humans and elves when I see them as higher ranked Arishoks and Stens instead of disposable front line.” I doubted the mirror point about the Chantry doing the same was caught. 

“It started in Kirkwall long before any of us were born, when Magisters slaughtered slaves and thinned the Veil into the Fade. It continued through all the revolts and wars. It's not going to stop until someone enforces that everyone has rights over themselves, but not the right to abuse others.” I was amused to see a trace of worry in Cousland that I would announce the Warden secrets about Corypheus.

I'd leave that to Varric's skill.

“What will you do about mages? They are a threat, starting with the Scourge.” The Grand Cleric demanded, “We _**will not**_ trade Qunari for Magister rule.”

“Something different than the way the Gallows was. Allow family visits. Give them real responsibilities and a purpose when they mature, with more freedom as the prize. Give them real work with honor. That can be hammered out later, it's irrelevant if we lose. If that happens, I'll be a shit cleaner to be trotted out on display, who doesn't care about anything.”

Anora spoke. “What about Kirkwall as a whole and the Chantry?”

“Removing all the symbols of slavery and abuse will happen. Rebuilding the Chantry is important. Qunari will be allowed to be there. Everyone who treats others politely can do business in Kirkwall. If the elves, Darktown, and the mages believed the Chantry cared for them, conversions to the Qun would be no danger. It is among those who had no other hope of fair treatment or hope for better future that provided the most converts. Foolish nobles might think they would stay privileged if they joined. Only fools would want that if there is a better choice. Pax Kirkwall.” Was this enough, or would I have to fight my way out of this summit?

“You will allow the Templar Order in Kirkwall.” That was a demand from the Grand Cleric, though Highever was waking with a groan.

“As long as they behave civilly, even to mage apprentices. I heard a Templar eagerly wanting making a young mage his sexual plaything after he had her made Tranquil so she could not say no. She didn't even know enough magic to try to defend herself and his _Templar_ buddies did not object. A maggot like that is not what Andraste or the Maker would approve. If an Arishok wants to go drinking some evening in Kirkwall, that's fine, if he wants to conquer he can stuff it.”

There was a silence, and I thought they were done with this interview. “I plan to fight and get my friends out, as my sister may be in the city too. Fugitive only, I cannot stay in Kirkwall. It will be attacked again as long as there is no civil ruler, by Qun or Tevinter or some other group. If I am Viscount, I will hold the city and knock heads until people work together.”

“Will you control the Scourge?” Highever demanded.

I flushed. “I beat him after Kirkwall and pierced his lung later when blood magic affected him. I will not allow him to become lost and a menace again.”

“You are essentially a Templar, then, Champion.” Anora said grimly.

“Yes. I will kill him twice and he knows that I will.” I had to close my eyes for a moment. “He asked me to.”

The Grand Cleric looked thoughtful. The other Arls were quiet, one an elderly man with a beard and the only one with little martial decoration to his clothing or armor. There were seven of them. Southron and Highever would rather string me up. Amaranthine was partly worried about the Warden prison, its cleanup, and most importantly its secrecy.

“You may wait outside, Ser Hawke. Erlina will take you where you can await Our decision.”

I was taken down a floor to a small room with only a small window. I thought I could climb out if I must escape. Some tea and pastries were not that filling, but I finished them all as my Warden appetite demanded. I found a copy of Genitivi's book on the Ashes, but it didn't look like it had been read frequently.

Hours passed and I began to worry that a company of guards or even boiling oil was coming my way. I started checking the walls and ceiling for murder holes, but another maid bid my return.

I straightened my armor and did not check on my hidden weapons.

The Council room was warm, with the air of a room that had just had a contentious meeting. 

Or dance. These people didn't look like they had that much fun.

The Grand Cleric announced, with an edge in her voice. “You will give all respect to the appointed Grand Cleric, as will your people. _He_ will give a sincere and public apology for those innocents that died from his actions. He will demonstrate that he can be a good son of the Maker by attending services. The Grand Cleric will be part of your Council for important decisions.”

That I nodded at, though I really wanted to ask if I had to get permission to visit the Rose. I decided this was not the time.

“The crown will give assistance with transportation and supplies, but little troops due to ongoing conflicts. Highever will command what can be spared and be our eyes and ears. If you take the city and restore a Grand Cleric as Elsbeth demanded, Ferelden will recognize the Viscount Amell-Hawke.”

I nodded.

I was now setting myself as an equal and that was not what I had thought of when I had spoken to Sebastian about it.

“Thank you, your majesty.”

“Keep in mind, Hawke, this chance is only because _**We**_ do not want the Qunari to gain a foothold so close to Ferelden and We have no alternative troops to send for a March to surround them. If you fail, justice will be done for the destruction of the Chantry.” There was a curl to her lip.

I didn't care much that she wouldn't mind if we got killed, this was a chance. 

Highever, the Commander, and I were dismissed to that room I was waiting in earlier. Highever was angry with his sister, with that weighted silence that brother and sister could have. He was the elder, and it was much more entertaining from the outside.

“I presume the Scourge is at your mansion, Attryne.” He started to drink from the largest bottle in the cart.

I stepped in front of him and glared up at him. “You will not call him that. Call him Warden, Anders, or even mage, but I will expect a certain level of respect from everyone. If you cannot accommodate that, you can stay here and we'll send you a note when it's _safe_ for you to make a short visit for Anora.”

He flushed.

“Hawke, this is Fergus. He likes to send lists of bachelors to his sister every few days.” The Commander's irritation was still showing. That explained more of her interactions with Alistair.

I smiled at Fergus, letting my teeth show. “No, thanks. I'm already married.”

He sighed. “What kind of troops are you expecting, and how do you plan to use them?”

I looked at his sister and she was no help.

I looked at him, and I couldn't estimate how good he'd be in a fight. _Assume nothing._ “I really don't know. They didn't fight in a line the last time, but in squads. There just isn't that kind of room for fighting in Kirkwall. There are no broad spaces like in Ferelden, it will be nonstop close-in fighting. They use heavy javelins until in hand to hand distance. Most use blades, it's an honor thing. Their mages are fearless because they are nothing, only puppets of the Qun. It's most like fighting darkspawn in the Deep Roads and nothing like fighting them at Ostagar.”

“You should be going, Trinna, you wanted this.”

“The Queen and you want me married instead of doing something useful. I will only marry Alistair. I _have_ an heir...”

He glared at her. “He's a Howe, his father killed our family. You know what was found...”

The Commander returned his glare before getting a drink. “He was in the Marches. He has served honorably and well.”

“Neither I nor my men have fought Qun or in the Deep Roads.” He looked out of the window.

I shook my head. “Then you will have to hold the rear and succor each section as it is freed, at least at first. You restored Highever, correct? You will have to deal with injured, homeless, and even turncoats. I don't thank many humans will welcome the Qun, they have no patience for the underbelly, the useless, or those who want to better themselves. Your rank will help with the nobles, if we find any whole, most of them had no real responsibility.” _That was something to start with_ _after all this_ _: 'recruiting'_ _and putting nobles_ _from Hightown and the_ _elves_ _Alienage_ _in responsible positions_ _._

“Food and clothing too,” the Warden said.

“So ship or ships with as many supplies as we can have ready by... the morning tide?” He seemed to be less angry, finally. “I can only bring about a score I have here in Denerim who are well trained to reinforce the ship. It's the ship I brought my household in from Highever, but it can carry more. The Captain is reliable.”

He drummed he fingers on the window frame. “Shall I request additional supplies and marines from the Queen and notify the captain of the departure time?

“Fergus, I'm not going to be that kind of commander. I'd just look stupid because you have been trained to it. Just do the best you can to win this fight and work with whoever wants to free Kirkwall. The manners thing cuts both ways. That and pray to Andraste we succeed.” I was not looking forward to speaking to Anders and Justice.

“I will meet you at the Amaranthine mansion.” Fergus nodded and strode from the chamber.

Cousland smirked. “I told them that they'd need you if they wanted to take Kirkwall.”

I cracked my knuckles, in lieu of smacking her. _Anders..._ “You pull another ploy like that on me and I will make sure every Warden secret I can lay my hands on will be sent far and wide.”

She scoffed. “You know the truth, that another Archdemon is coming and non-Wardens have the luxury or forgetting what that means.”

“You know why I was Champion, because I didn't care much about what anyone thought about me or my people. I won't live long enough for another Blight. _But we are not your pawns._ You pulled one on Anders and one on me and that's all you get. The Wardens cannot afford to have what happened with Janneka and the other fools who destroyed Kirkwall gradually, to come out wrong. You would be exiled by more than Anora then, just like what happened with Commander Dryden.” I wasn't going to threaten to kill her.

“Fine, Viscount.” She threw up her hands. When she looked at the dimming sky through the window, she bowed me out of the room and we returned to her mansion.


	18. Lesson of the Seed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian must adapt after what was done to him, a harm that had never been done as directly and personally to him before. Time for almost a midlife crisis for the former bother as he has to come to grips with things he could disbelieve before.

** Starkhaven, in the shadow of the Circle Tower **

** Sebastian Vael: **

T hey dragged me outside and left me in the gloom, where Andraste's divine sunlight did not touch me. The summer air did not warm me and everything was pain  as I tried to protect my hand .

I tried to  speak the C hant, but  I kept losing my place .  _“In the absence of light... shadows th-_ _thrive...”_ I could not remember the next verse.  _“Those who had s- sought to claim Heaven by violence destroyed it.”_

I felt destroyed by th e sword and left to die  alone  in the shadows .

New arms went around me and pulled me away  into the sun. “Sebastian,  i n the Maker's name, what happened?”

I looked in her caramel eyes, feeling inappropriate giggling trying to claw its way out of my throat. “I'm not hosting an abomination, isn't that nice? The Scourge was less cruel. He healed me. My finger is ash, do you think anyone might think that will be a relic in a thousand years?”

I clenched my teeth and tried to stop speaking.

Jayne didn't answer, but half carried me back to the Palace. The guards questioned her, but she only answered them snappishly and called for the best healer. She pushed other visitors away as we waited and I tried to resist squeezing where my finger ended.

_ Maker, save me. Andraste, the fires of wrath and vengeance sweep through my soul and I am buffeted by their storm. I am weary of the fire. My throat is dry as ash. My eyes are pits that see not the sun. Andraste, I want to honor you. You know my flaws, but the fires are so very hot... _

The herbalist and surgeon arrived and I tried to demand for Anders through my fever, but Jayne shushed me. 

Bandaged and full of foul potions, I slept, cradling my arm trying to find comfort in the Chant. But I found little comfort. I was no longer what the Maker wrought, would he still judge me whole?

In the morning I felt awake but hollow. My missing finger ached with a dull throbbing as I cradled my hand against my chest. I tried to keep my mind blank so it wouldn't fracture.

“Why did you go in there, Sebastian?” Jayne was a quiet presence.

“Everyone lies, and the only way I could learn the truth was to see it for myself. I had been inside the Gallows... but this.” I didn't want to remember the fire and the smell of burning flesh.

I felt ashamed of that weakness, ashamed I could not face Her fire.

I hated Gualhart.

I wanted _vengeance_ on him, I wanted him to pay and feel my pain.

I felt even more ashamed.

Ashamed that I _still_ could not follow Elthina's wisdom.

Even more ashamed that my need to see him in agony was more visceral than after the Grand Cleric's death. I was so selfish, that my finger meant more to me than her life. 

Had my words of consolation after tragedies sounded as meaningless as what Jayne said to me? 

_ Andraste, help me, I wander alone in the valley of darkness. I want to be strong and follow in your footsteps, but I am failing You... _

“Was it worth it?” Jayne's voice was flat.

For a moment I hated her, too, but I uncurled from my pain to look at her. “It gave testament on how corrupted the Knight Commander has become. He believes none can hold him accountable for any misdeeds. The Maker will remember, but we must be His hands.”

I drew strength from my anger. My test had meaning and I could still serve the Maker's will despite my weakness. I looked at her. _“_ _I will_ _ **make**_ _it_ _worth it._ _ **”**_

Sitting up, I carefully checked my hand. Between the cleaning, the repair done by the surgeon of the guard, and the potions, it was already on its way to being healed. It was scabbed solidly enough that I should see the Council yet today.

Ser Jayne looked at me sharply. “What are you doing, Sebastian?”

“I am reporting to my cousin. Gualhart is a festering boil and a threat to the faithful in Starkhaven. He has set himself above the Chant.”

She glared at me. “Listen to yourself. _You_ were arrogant. You went in there despite my advice and you learned the cost of your pride.”

I curled my arm against my belly. “I have been told that before and that will always be a struggle for me. That doesn't refute his failures. He gives weight to the charges of corruption, that the madness in Kirkwall was not just the flaws of _that_ city or rebellion of _those_ mages.”

Picking up the silk pouch, I could feel that my seeds were still safe though the events of the day before.

I had my answer.

Grandfather gave it to me months ago at the Her shrine. Truths my father tried to teach me as well. “Thank you, Grandfather. I know what to do.”

“Sebastian! What are you planning?” Jayne's dusky skin was pale and her tea-dark eyes worried at what I'd said.

“I will not confront him, not where he is strong. I will have to wait until I speak with my cousin.” I was not going to hide what happened to me. This was no stage prop to a debate, but proof of Gualhart's allegiance with those who killed Andraste. I left my suite, on fire to start.

We approached the Council chamber. When I was announced, they seemed surprised to see me.

“Sebastian!” Goran rose and escorted me to his seat. “I cannot believe they laid hands upon you, a Brother and a Vael. We are at a loss to understand how it could have happened. If he was any noble or commoner, he would be executed, to have laid hands on the heir. But he claims these acts are to keep the mages under control and the rest of us safe.”

“It has not been the same since the Grand Cleric's death,” Mother Cithol said with a shudder. “We hear of those events in Kirkwall and even Orlais. The Cumberland tower is under siege, though a few Sisters have come and gone. The Circle in Ferelden was annulled during the Blight. Nowhere is safe from the danger of the mages.”

_ Andraste make my words as sweet as your song to the Maker. _

“We cannot sing the Maker's praise across Thedas in one voice if all we sing about is fear. The Maker does not want us to fill his ears with the clanging of clankers. Gualhart only clanks and we must sing cleaner, like Andraste did. I will deal with him, cousin.”

Now Goran looked alarmed. “You will not hire more mercenaries?”

That could make me smile. “No, I will not be interfering or impeding them in their duties. Nor will he have any pretense to repeat his butchery, as I will be out in the open. He cannot prevail over pure hearts and faith in the Maker.”

My cousin frowned, but his face showed dawning surprise. “Grandfather Kyros? Yes, that does seem a wise path. I will order support as you need it.”

We would never be close friends, but I could respect that he stepped forward during the crisis. I rose and helped him sit; he looked wearier than a man his age should. “Thank you, Your Highness. I am glad you approve,” I said.

As he sat, he chuckled. “Somehow, I don't think my disapproval would have changed your plans one bit. You have been tempered by the last year, and I am glad you are home.”

The rest of the council asked questions about what had happened in the Tower. Some knew the First Enchanter or some of the older mages. Mother Cithol was disturbed as she knew Chloe before she grew into her magic. As most of the mages had gathered voluntarily, they were living much more quietly. When they felt they had wrung all my observations, knowledge, and reasoning I was politely dismissed.

I didn't mind. I could accomplish more as a free agent. My march to my suite was much quieter than when I left, and I ordered a large meal. As I waited, I wrote some quick letters to my daughter and steward.

With some trepidation, I wrote a brief letter to Bethany Hawke in care of the Wardens. I wasn't sure if she remembered me. We had only met briefly, but I hoped the less obvious message would find its way to Hawke. She might find the irony amusing. Anders would gloat, which would be much less amusing for me. 

The longest letter was for my cousin, that I would appreciate it if he would grant sanctuary to my few friends from Kirkwall, even if they might seem pirates. I did not list them, as I doubted if many would expect sanctuary after how we parted, but Kirkwall had been a pit that bred evil. 

Much was clearer to me once I was away from it. And now I was facing the rot and putting my life in the hands of the Maker. I was ready.

“I suppose you will tell me what hare-brained idea you have this time. No one in the council even asked.” Jayne's voice was a little plaintive and more angry.

“They understand. This was how Grandfather Kyros defeated the Ironguts, the tyrant, long ago. He simply began a vigil on the steps of the Great Chantry, in protest of the abuses of power. He did not leave. Slowly he was joined by thousands, until even the tyrant's army joined the vigil. Ironguts abdicated and slunk away to disappear from history.”

She smiled grimly. “That should make it easier to protect you.”

“This is my testament of my faith and the rightness of my cause. You may visit, and I'm sure I will entertain visits from the Knight Commander. But I am not a warrior for the Maker, as much as for His bride. I would bring no weapons or army.” _I was ready._

“ _No, you do not._ **S** **er.** I will not leave you alone and defenseless for the first apostate or forsworn to shiv in the dark!”

I was touched by the feeling in her voice, but weapons could not accomplish this. “You are an outsider. Every Starkhaven citizen knows the story of the first Vael's faith. I believe in my people. It will be well.”

She gripped my arm. “You have not healed, at least wear protection.”

My armor was along the traditional styles, as silly as some thought it, but... it would clearly identify me and what my purpose was. I was a Vael and I was forever a lay-brother, even if I never led a service again. “I will wear my armor.”

Jayne plied me with questions about Grandfather and how I planned to do this. Water, blankets, and a concise annotated copy of the Chant. All else would be provided by supporters. Starkhaven understood. The violence _must_ end. I fully expected Jayne to visit. If she was in charity with me, she might bring me some food.

Given my own private doubts and prayers, this was really the best path I could see. I slept restlessly. I missed Jayne's company more than I thought possible.

When I woke, my scab had bled the tiniest bit, but Boulos brought me another salve with my breakfast tray. I ate well, as I doubted this would conclude quickly, unless it went badly.

I exited my room into the parlor and saw Jayne wearing a dress instead of her heavy armor. 

Her face was almost mutinous. “I am not your guard. I am joining the vigil.”

“Do you think that is a good idea? He holds the superior rank to yours.” I didn't want her to pay. “This will surely destroy your career. They need... Thedas needs more faithful like you and fewer like him.”

“Do you think it was a coincidence that I was assigned to a mission leaving Val Royeaux? My career was already in danger for not being harsh enough for promotion. Maybe that is why my few female peers are not promoted unless they are more extreme.” She paused. “Did that happen with males in the Chantry?”

I had to look away as that hit late night melancholy. “I don't know. I will admit most of the brothers I knew were more scholars and explorers than serving within the Chantry as I tried.”

Bells rang, and it was time to go and cross to the Chantry plaza. We would have plenty of time to talk later.

We reached the steps and settled with our meager supplies. A few asked why we were here. Some children thought we were bards or professional story tellers. Most of them received lessons from the Chant with interest, as I was unfamiliar and exciting. To leaven the majority of lessons from the Chant, I included a few short ones from greater Thedas and Kirkwall, first or second hand, I removed most of the identifying aspects when I added the morals.

I had to get creative at times, but the children were eventually called away late afternoon. The more serious questions about why I was here began. I spoke against war and hate, and that we were all the Maker's children.

Sisters brought us water. The second day, more adults came early in the day, some with questions about Kirkwall. I answered most. None seemed to mind when children came again in the warm afternoon for stories, but in the evening a group of Templars listened as I taught from the Chant about peace and faith.

I couldn't be sure, but I thought Gualhart was surprised that I had not struck at him with my cousin's authority.

Jayne was nearly silent unless we were alone. I wasn't sure she fooled anyone, because she was much too watchful for just another mendicant.

The third morning a handful of people joined us and brought cool water with them. The discussion was mostly centered on the Chant, with examples in the unruly world around us.

At noon, Gualhart marched up. “I should have you swept off of these steps and beaten.”

I nodded up at him as he loomed again. “The dedication of faith affecting our people has a long tradition in Starkhaven.”

“You are spreading blasphemy and heresy. You are a traitor and will let maleficar and abominations take root until we are their slaves. You are too weak and soft on them. They corrupted you.” He stepped forward to try to impose his will through intimidation.

Holding the Divine Andraste's words in my heart, I refused to lean away. He had no authority over me and the Grand Cleric of Starkhaven did not disapprove of my vigil.

The Knight-Commander halted before he touched me. 

My heart faltered when my lost finger ached.

He leaned over with his hand braced on my shoulder, and whispered so only I could hear. “Former First Enchanter Jerrol has been made Tranquil. He claimed that spirits let him heal, but we all know how bloodmages _lie_ about their demons.”

I could barely hold myself still.

They had been so desperate and happy to see me, that I was an answer to their prayers. Gualhart was gloating about destroying the old man who had been only kind and wise. I failed to bring peace for those who petitioned me for peace. _Andraste, help me remain firm in the face of evil._

Jayne's eyes darkened to almost sable. Maybe it was a growl. 

Gualhart looked at her. “I will be reporting your inaction to Val Royeaux.”

“Report away. I was assigned to guard the prince from threats _by the Knight_ _Vigilant_ , you do not have the authority to countermand that assignment. We exist to _protect_ the faithful from all threats.”

“As if you can do it like that,” the Commander sneered at her dress.

Jayne glared at me and then at the Knight-Commander. “I believed I should respect the occasion. But a Brother with strong faith _and_ spunk is inconvenient and dangerous for those who lack _both._ ” She finished with a sneer.

Gualhart slapped her with a growl. 

He wore heavy gauntlets and I couldn't help cry out a little at the thought of her skin darkening from his blow.

“But of course part of my assignment was to report on what I observe about Circles and those in service.” Jayne remained upright without flinching, despite blood appearing under her dark skin.

He stalked away, but his commands only drifted behind.

I did not feel like smiling, though I thought he lost that confrontation. I didn't know quite what to say to Ser Jayne,

“Your Highness, I will make arrangements and get my armor. I do not trust your safety to the city guard alone.” Looking over the dozens who were chattering around us, she stood up. “I will return soonest. Maker, bless you.”

I had hoped this would be peaceful, but family lore had been short on details of how Grandfather dealt with King Ironguts and his agents. I returned to lessons from the Chant for the children in the afternoon, relating to events since the beginning of the Dragon Age. 

That I had fought dragons in both Ferelden and Kirkwall caused complete silence among the young people. Some battles had led to too many drinks and bragging at the Hanged Man, but we had won so many battles, that it almost became a commonplace. Here, I was reminded how rare it was.

Jayne returned, in her full armor and helm. She was quiet and watchful.

That evening the city patrols visited more often. One arrived as a group of Templars gazed at the score or so who were singing a children's hymn and laughing at the errors that came from rusty memory. 

The Templars moved on, and Jayne's hands moved away from her weapons belt. I did not wish her to pay for my cause and so did not object to her arming.

As the days passed, the numbers who joined us were not growing as much as I hoped, but Gualhart visited nearly daily and glared. I found the speaking grew easier and others became inspired by events to speak of their hopes and fears too. And I could find something I hoped addressed their problem. 

I didn't know why it was easier to console and advise petitioners. What that said about me I didn't want to examine.

Sometimes the questions were more about fighting during my time in Kirkwall, and some things were adjusted a little. I did not hide that I missed people and the Chantry, which I had last seen as burning rubble. I was glad when one man who had been there more recently, told me the Chantry square was an open air place for worship, with tenting to keep them dry during construction. I hoped to go and see it in a year or so, maybe commission something in Elthina's memory.

Lepin, one of the earliest to remain, asked me the one important question quietly one evening when we huddled under the scant shelter of some tarps. “Why are you here, Brother Sebastian?”

I knew this question was coming, and despite prayer and contemplation of the Chant I wasn't quite satisfied with my answer. “We are all children of the Maker. He made all of Thedas and _all_ of us. None of us is perfect, and I have had to learn and sometimes relearn my lessons. We are told of the greatest sins: pride, wrath, sloth, and lust. Pride makes us too sure that we know that the Maker wants, that the Maker approves of wrath and death. The Maker turned away from the First Ones, who became Pride and Lust and Wrath. He turned from us because we cannot turn away from those demons. We make clankors when repeat the First Ones error and do not sing and create as the Maker treasures. We should turn away, and create a better world.”

I could see his confusion at my abstract purpose. “I pray we can end the blood and death through the lands, and even here in Starkhaven. Slaves, mages, dwarves, and the poor are all Andraste's people too. The Starkhaven Circle had not harmed anyone, and were speaking to a representative of the Prince peacefully. That did not warrant execution of their spirits, severing them from the Fade and joining the Maker. I call on Gualhart to resign from the Templars. He is unfit to act in Andraste's name.”

A ripple went out from around me. A few left. A few asked more about what happened. Once I had explained about Larkspur and Jerrol, the silence became thoughtful. What I saw happen here, and how it resembled events in Kirkwall was discussed for many hours. All agreed that we did not want rebellion and war here, but the ones who remained were inspired that we might resolve this in a way Andraste approved. Our numbers grew, and some told similar tales smuggled from other places in the Marches. 

After another retelling one evening, Jayne finally spoke. “And what will you do, Ser, when the Commander decides to attack your group? He will slaughter these people, who lack the armor and guard to protect them. They _will_ die for this start of treating mages better.”

I glared at her, as this was an unfair argument about one symptom. After a long minute that it took me to calm, I could reply. “You are right, Ser Jayne. It is unfair and my faith is stronger than that.” 

I began stripping off my armor, until I only had the bottom layer of light padding  and lightweight simples and I set  the padding  aside. “I am clothed in my faith in the Maker. That is all I need and I am ready for join the Maker now, if I must do so to  make peace  for all the Maker's children .  _ Blessed are they who stand before  _ _ t _ _he corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just._ _Benedictions.”_


	19. Opposing Views

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Anders and Justice share some quality time as the Queen's audience drags on. Then Anders learns of the Council's conditions...

**Denerim, the Arlessa of Amaranthine's study**

**Anders:**

Hawke left with Trinna, and I worried that she was playing finger games with an ogre  to go to a court . I began to pace, but Tabris suggested that I help with the messages to the other Warden outposts. Once that was done and  Trinna's lieutenant left to the pigeon-cote, I dropped into a chair, wishing Hawke was  with me and  in my lap.

I was half waiting for soldiers or Templars to break in. I wanted Hawke. We fought best together and we were apart. I didn't trust Alistair completely against a Templar attack from our experience with Rolan.

The map drew my restless attention and I studied those conflicts that Trinna marked. Were these enough, or were they too many? Would mages be able to seize and hold some freedoms from all this or would we lose them? 

Did we make the world better, despite all the pain?

“Is all that worth it?” Alistair surprised me when he moved to stand over the table too. “Two Circles annulled. Mages burned by the dozen in the streets of Val Royeaux; how many more made Tranquil in panic? How many mages have suffered since you murdered a Grand Cleric?”

“You annulled Kinloch. How did it make you feel when that was how it was recorded?” I returned. “It wasn't that simple for us either. Elthina was part of the problem. When Loghain didn't act during Ostagar, he wasn't just betraying the king, but everyone in Ferelden. Elthina refused to mediate, and by inaction was giving Meredith permission, just like Loghain gave the darkspawn permission to slaughter everyone in Ferelden. If the great general had not been on the field, they would not have chosen that battle, would they? If Elthina had not been in Kirkwall, the other mages would not have hoped that the wise and kind woman would help them.”

I wasn't sure what inspired that, but I knew how the former general had affected Trinna and him.

Alistair was shaking his head, but couldn't find the words for a second. “She was not a combatant, and that was a cowardly attack.”

“Like Tranquility isn't? Do you know how many were made Tranquil in Kirkwall?” At his headshake, I said, “I don't know either, but I counted over twenty in the Gallows square. How many more were not outside? How many Tranquil were in Kinloch? I know you know that one.”

“A handful. But you've admitted there were a lot of blood mages and abominations that you fought and killed.” Alistair snarled.

A flash of another mage transforming made me sick. “We arrived one time when a girl was on her knees in surrender as a Templar was beating her, crying that she was a good daughter of the Chantry. She got no mercy and before we could get close enough to stop them, she transformed and attacked everyone. She was the daughter of a Templar. They don't want good behavior from mages, they want our deaths, quickly in blood or slow from Tranquility.”

“You didn't answer about the others.”

“I've spent most of my life as a healer when not escaping or fighting darkspawn. Fighting bloodmages ends their harm to others. One or two mages who use blood magic to fuel their attacks are a harder question, but almost all use mind control or use their victim's blood against them. That girl had no offensive spells. And despite Meredith's brutal oversight and control, the First Enchanter was a blood mage too, using bodies of mages to _attack_ _us_.” I didn't want to think about the possibility that some of the mages he used like that still lived or were Tranquil when he cast that spell. Using victims for spells was the worst part of blood magic. And I could never discuss Quenton's magic with Hawke.

I'd been so afraid she would hate all mages and me after that horror.

Alistair crossed his arms and turned away. “Just because Kirkwall was sinking doesn't mean you had to add your anvil to the boat.”

“Just because the wound bleeds doesn't mean you don't do more damage removing the bolt. It cannot heal until you do.” I didn't even feel angry right then, just tired.

Alistair shook and I knew what he wanted to say, that the Chantry and Elthina were not weapons.

With a growl, he stood and rushed out of the room.

So I sat there and stared at the map of Thedas, waiting for the soldiers to arrive.

After a while, when they didn't come, I started to worry about Hawke again. 

I could not protect or heal her if she got in a fight and she wasn't careful. Fort Drakon was infamous, the kind of thing Templars threaten young mages with before Aonar, even if Kinloch wasn't always that different from the rumors of Drakon. Beatings, torture, and rape I had heard or experienced, but where that was a job skill and not a failing was somehow more terrible. 

Trinna never spoke about her capture and escape.

Dera was in there now and time passed painfully.

Tabris came in with a heaping tray of food and followed by an angry Alistair. Tabris put the food down on a smaller table and said, “ _You are t_ _o_ _stay in here, Ser._ No one wants to spar with you like this, and we are preparing for war. I must send a message to Howe and check on resources for the Commander when she returns.”

I had to smile because I could understand his frustration, though I felt more sure Trinna wasn't in danger.

Regardless, I realized how hungry I was and began to eat before the elven Warden left the room.

“Spar with me, Justice.”

I finished my bite, but chewed slowly as I looked at him, surprised he spoke. 

Memories of sparring with him came from Justice, but I asked the spirit, _Will he keep it to sparring?_

My head snapped back as the memory of a sword in my bleeding heart came back from where I'd buried the memory.

_** We can defeat him, if it is necessary. ** _

I wasn't as sure, but Justice could not lie to me.

We were one.

I finished chewing and said, “After I finish this snack.”

I would prefer to spend the afternoon with Hawke, but I couldn't make bandages and potions here to keep me busy with her gone.

So we went down to the armory and Justice wanted a sword and shield this time. Another pair of guards were practicing, but in another fight area.

I asked as we paced to a circle on the floor, “Why's this underground, anyway?”

Alistair looked around. “I don't know, it was this way before we beat Howe, and survived the Archdemon almost intact. Ready?”

_** I shifted the sword and painted shield for a moment before nodding. ** _

_** We fought for a time, evenly, but the mage was getting tired, so I loosened control in mid-exchange just as I began the ripost and bind. He did not truly understand our skill. ** _

Alistair's shield was about to punch into my stomach and I frantically pushed mine and deflected it. My edge had ended up at his throat and he couldn't move.

_How did that happen?_ “Sorry.”

Touching the thread of blood, “Justice used a great sword.”

I stepped back and healed him, glad for a chance to rest for a moment. I used a spell to speed my recovery and I shrugged. “He can use any weapon, but he prefers long blades.”

“That wasn't him that finished the fight, it was you.”

I shrugged again as I sat on a bench against the wall. “I studied that war mage reference from what Trinna found in the Brecilian Forest. It took too much of my attention from healing, then I pretty much forgot it while Vengeance was crowding us.” I frowned, because Justice was making a point I didn't like. I forced a smile. “I really don't like using blades and heavier armor is too bulky and confining.”

“Maker's breath. That's just practice. You could have been a warrior.” Alistair threw himself down on the bench too.

I really wanted to laugh, as if I wanted to be that. “I admit I admire the speed of two blades a bit more. If I hadn't shown magic, I'd either be a farmer in the Anderfels or maybe a Warden. That was all there was to do.”

Maybe I would have been happier over the years, but I doubt I could have ever met Hawke.

_** You should practice more. ** _

_ When I tried back at the Vigil I was ineffective.  _

_** I will practice. ** _

_ Fine. Don't forget to wash up and don't scare Hawke. Don't exhaust us. I'm staying with my staff. _

“Can't believe you got married. You propositioned everyone that moved at the Vigil. I thought you were after Trinna.”

I grinned. “I was. I tried to get into your bunk too. I can't believe Isabela didn't try harder when she met you.”

“No, _no_. Not going there.”

“What, you didn't enjoy the frantic coupling in the Templars' quarters?”

He calmed at that. “No, I did not. The games on the mages' parts, the temptations to abuse their power on the Templars' side, the secrets and recriminations... No, _that_ was wrong.”

That was so tempting to try again, but I stopped myself just in time and looked at the floor. 

_I was married and I loved Hawke._ “I love my wife, I love that I have a wife. Something that is illegal for mages, but she helps me every day with the nightmares from being a mage and being a Warden.”

Alistair grimaced. “I'm just mad you got married first. We've wanted to for years, but Eamon won't give his permission to me and the Queen wants a blood heir before Trinna gets herself killed. She doesn't want Amaranthine to be a Grey Warden bauble or another domain for Fergus to inherit. Trinna is useful, but... But if _we_ marry, we're a threat to the throne, especially without the blessing of the Queen as her vassals. We're the other major reason why Landsmeet hasn't ended. Trinna's too powerful. The simplest thing to secure her throne would be to order my execution, but Trinna would never forgive her. She's the Hero of Ferelden. There just isn't any treason charge that might work...

“Except for harboring the Scourge.”

I sighed. I didn't know what to say. Kirkwall politics was simpler because Dumar had almost no power. “I'd offer to leave, but it's too late now.”

Standing up, I left to get washed up before they returned. I wore my own armor, the black armor, in case I had to fight.

It seemed the right thing to wear.

The sun had set before Hawke and Trinna returned. They had no escort, so that was a good sign.

I held her tight, my fears swelling now that I'd admitted how many there were. “I missed you, love.”

Cousland and Alistair moved to the other side of the room.

Hawke's eyes were bleak. “We're getting help and a few troops. An experienced leader, used to commanding troops, has a ship for supplies for survivors.”

Her tone said this wasn't all of it, so I just rubbed her back.

“The Queen and Grand Cleric will support this attack, without too many strings attached. They want the Qunari out. At least I'm not a heathen, but I know a March will be called if Kirkwall expels the Chantry.”

“What about me? What about mages?” I saw that she looked so unhappy.

Her smile was weak. “I made no real promises and told them I would remain in favor of the mages. There would be no Circle as it was: family contact, freedom and responsibility once they pass some test, details later. Templars allowed in as long as they behave under the law. Even some Qun, but the Qun will not be as attractive to elves or poor if they had hope.” Here she paused. “The Chantry will be rebuilt, and you will publicly apologize and attend services. I think grovel was what she meant.”

_Apologize for_ _what I did..._ _beg and say I was wrong? That they haven't abused and killed so many mages?_

_How_ _could she_ _...?_

But then it hit. 

This was what I'd _begged_ for from Elthina, what Hawke also wanted, for years. I crushed her against me for a kiss for our victory.

Dera was stiff and I pulled back to brush the tracery on her cheek. “What's wrong, love? I would have tied myself up if it would accomplish all that.”

That made her glare at me. “You weren't _that_ wrong, Anders.”

Tweaking her earlobe, which looked too naked right now without her earring, I waited.

Hawke bit her lip. “It sounds stupid to say it, but they want me to be Viscount Amell-Hawke.”

That made me laugh. “Still the example, my love. Do they know we are married?”

“Funny, that didn't come up.” That made her giggle. “But they know we're a package deal.”

“I _can_ apologize, love. Elthina was dangerous, but I am very willing to apologize for the innocents who died with her.” Those deaths haunted me.

The other two were also talking, but we might get real change in Kirkwall. More, if the madness from Corypheus faded away. That should help change Kirkwall alone.

Hawke chuckled wryly. “Of course we will have to defeat the Qunari without getting killed. I would not be surprised if that is why they considered it. Only if we take the city and hold it, will it cost them anything.”

And if we died, we would serve to hurt the Qunari first and we would pay for what we did. 

I had to sigh. “Unless they choose to forget what they agreed to today.”

“The Grey Wardens will make a formal treaty with the Viscount of Kirkwall, just as we have done with other lands to prepare for Blight.” Attryne declared, moving back to Hawke and me.

“Isn't making a treaty with a subordinate Warden going to be a problem?” Hawke asked, her humor fading.

Cousland waved a hand. “I must deal with conflicts like that constantly, and Weisshaupt thought that was a wonderful idea when they encouraged it for the Vigil. The First Warden might as well be king for all his manipulations in the Anderfels. It reminds me of the long view more than other nobles, and reduces the allure of making a more powerful family or petty things. I'm open about it, and you might be too. It conflicts less often than you'd think.”

Hawke grinned darkly. “You enjoyed your brother being given his marching orders.”

“He's been a burr under my saddle for months now, trying to convince me that I should make a dynastic marriage;  Fergus must be the one who convinced Anora . He's leaving for Kirkwall with his  _Waynepayn_ and troops.” Attryne grinn ed now.

“He'd better watch himself with how he threatened Anders.” Hawke tensed.

Trinna spread her arms. “Fergus doesn't hold a grudge that long. He admires Nathaniel some days. If he had seen the Circle like I did, he would change his mind too. While he does plot for his lands' good and for family advancement, he is loyal to the crown.”

I felt Hawke relax a little. 

“Besides, I was angling to be given the troops for this, not him. I always wondered how fighting Qunari forces would go.” The Commander looked vexed.

Alistair glared now. “I propose and you want to go fight a war? Now who's running?”

Trinna looked embarrassed. “We still need Anora's blessing before we marry.”

“Trinna, dear, we got Eamon's agreement. Fergus won't be here, that leaves only Anora. It's been too long.” The warrior looked into her eyes.

I smirked at them and held Hawke. “You could always run off and marry at the Vigil.”

The Commander's brother entered and with only a nod to his sister, spoke to Hawke. “I'm sorry, Champion, but it's going to require are least two days to collect what is needed. We can leave no earlier than the fifth, and the sixth will net us another company, courtesy of her majesty. I can interview them before we leave port. Many will be experienced with bandits, but not small group military tactics. That you said would be more useful.”

Hawke froze, and looked at me, her eyes big. Shaking her head, then she glared at Trinna.

Fergus had the tiniest smirk.

I wanted to rub my forehead, like Trinna had done so many times. A Teyrn was asking Hawke for instructions, and one who seemed to know more about command.

Hawke said, “The sixth then, and no later or I will hire a smuggler to take us over.”

“Noted, Ser. We will need as much information, and as current as you have to make plans.”

“Fergus, there are Wardens in Kirkwall. They should join with the Champion when they see her.” Trinna was smiling slightly.

The Teyrn looked surprised and at me. “Will they help if _he_ is renegade?”

Hawke smoothed her hand over my chest, where I wasn't in my Warden armor right now either.

“Brother, the Champion was Conscripted in the spring and finished an important darkspawn cleanup only weeks ago. They will help,” the Warden Commander said.

Hawke looked worried. “My sister is one of the Wardens. We won't have to worry about her help if we find her. And we'd better get there in time.”

An old map of Kirkwall was brought out and the larger one updated from the Queen's. Hawke and I talked ourselves hoarse explaining all we knew about Kirkwall, its secrets and defenses, the Gallows, smuggling routes.

What was most important was that the Qunari would have had plenty of time to bring up the harbor chains, so no reinforcing forces could try to help Kirkwall. The Gallows would hold Templars and what mages remained when the Qun attacked. The leader would not leave them behind him, and we would have to take the Gallows immediately after the chain went down. Or before.

The big question was how many ships they brought and were they still in port? How many men? We'd have a better idea when we got there. The smuggler ways could get a smaller group into the city to scout and drop the chain, allowing Fergus in. 

But if there were too many ships, I thought Hawke was going to rescue instead of attack.

Beyond the harbor, we didn't have any real plans. To much depended on what we found.

Each ship would carry hundreds of fighters.

Fergus thought his command would amount to maybe three hundred, plus the crew. Wardens might be as many as twenty, once we found them. Some in Kirkwall would still fight.

We had to face the fact that many would not fight against the Qunari rule. But how many would fight _for_ them?

I was sure that was what would have stuck in the craw of that cabal at Drakon: so many in Kirkwall had no reason to resist the Qunari rule. But Hawke was not just my light. She was still the Champion of Kirkwall.

But would the city follow her after what I did?

By the time Fergus left at midnight, neither Hawke nor I were saying much. We went to our room and found Paws and Mew were on the bed. 

Ser Mew sniffed and stalked away.

Paws glared, but did not move his massive weight from the middle of our bed.

Hawke sat on the edge of the bed. “Paws, the Qunari went back to Kirkwall, just like the Arishok promised. They took the city. We don't know what happened to Aveline, Donnic, or Varric... Bethany and Fenris are close enough they could have been attacked too.” Hawke paused as if to ask a question, but didn't. “We will be leaving in just over two days. I want you to promise to guard Anders and Bethany, because people will hate him the most and I want him safe.”

The mabari looked back and forth between us, and gave a snort.

“I mean it, Paws. If you can protect them, I can protect myself more. There will be plenty of fighting for everyone and we won't know who will be our friends. Count on Anders and Bethany.” Hawke wasn't quite ordering.

I was planning to leave Mew on board ship. Janneka taught one lesson I had not wanted.

Paws wagged his stump tail and licked Hawke's hand, before getting off the bed.

We settled into bed without much talk. I felt tired, not just from the long day and sparring. Hawke pulled herself close and tucked her head against my chest, her breath warm against the ticklishness of old scars. 

I didn't sleep much, too many worries about the coming battles. 

_ Dera had been so badly hurt when she fought the Arishok. I had been fighting off the other side and missed the sword blow impaling her. Varric finished the one attacking me and I kept her alive until she wrenched free, and healed more as she moved behind a pillar and dropped a smoke grenade for cover. She dropped several more grenades before she got close enough and then put her longest dagger through his heart, and twisted. _

_ With a kind of satisfaction,  _ _ the Arishok _ _ said, “ _ _ Panahedan,  _ _ Hawke _ _ . We will return...” Blood gushed out of his mouth  _ _ as he convulsed. _

And we were going to fight another one? 

I feared for Hawke.

Even with the chance of the a free Circle, I feared.

The Chantry had not abided by their deal with the elves.

I feared the changes that would be needed in Hawke to make Kirkwall strong and independent. 

I brushed fingers over her hair before dawn, wanting to treasure this moment for what it was: a precious time of safety that was either lost, or the last of our lives. Without a word, I kissed a line across her collarbone and down between her breasts. Breathing in her smell, I kissed her slowly. Her fingers made glowing swaths of warmth along my flanks as she pulled me closer.

We were silent. We had no words

Too soon someone pounded on the door to make demands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some dialog is taken from or adapted from canon.


	20. Forward Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bethany, Sigrun, and the other Wardens are trapped in Kirkwall. Stealing a ship is easier than sailing it and there are no Blight treaties to guide them.

**Kirkwall, s** **muggler tunnels below Darktown**

**\- Warden Bethany Hawke**

I floated back to consciousness, thinking for a moment I was still in the Deep Roads. But there was a complete absence of darkspawn, along with the warm touch and glowing embrace I could feel even sleeping. Still aching from my injuries, I sent out another wave of healing before I opened my eyes to the dim light.

Fenris frowned as he woke and checked the area around us. “How do you feel?”

“Sore. But I've fought with worse.” I used a tiny wave of repelling force to knock the dried blood off my armor. Repairing my armor in the morning always helped center me when there was no morning sun or bird calls. Perfumes were meaningless, but I'd found a dozen ways to appear neater.

“The healer said you are to remain quiet for a few days after that much healing.” He looked away and down the tunnel, uncomfortable as he spoke about magic.

I thought he was sweet to worry. “One day. She hasn't healed Grey Wardens before.”

That got me his sparkling emerald glare. “Two days. This isn't a Blight, anything else can wait a little. Are you all this stubborn or is this a Hawke trait?”

That made me laugh. “Yes. Wardens have to get by without healing most of the time because we have trouble recruiting mages. Sister _is_ a bad patient, she was terrible when she caught an ague in Lothering, so the fights between her and Carver would drive Mother out of the house when they were both sick.”

Grey Wardens raised self-sufficiency to almost a religion. Between her and Anders they could be as frightening as all the Warden-Commanders.

The talk between the other Wardens and Catalin made Fenris quietly snarl last night. I didn't like their talk of allying with Tevinter either. I had seen no true followers of the Chant from those few Tevinter Wardens I had met. As angry with the Magisters as Fenris was, he still managed to get free, as much as they took from him. He admired the rational standards of the followers of the Qun.

My memories still smelled of a Sarabas burning himself. He could not even desire freedom. The Sisters in Lothering taught us darker tales from when the Qunari held most of Thedas. I wasn't sure of the truth in their beliefs, but I saw too many bodies five years ago to convince me of their benevolence.

Sister was in Ferelden, but Aveline was here. I had to know what happened to her before I left. And Varric? Varric was the disreputable cousin that most families seemed to have. I liked him and I loathed him a tiny bit because his moneymaking expedition cost me my freedom. Neither of them deserved whatever would happen here, and I wanted to find them and get them out.

I could conscript them, I knew what to do. I could get them free from the Qun if they would honor Blight necessities. Some Qun honored us and some did not, but they all respected our skills. Would they respect Aveline and Varric? Tales told the brutal fates of those who didn't accept the Qun, and I didn't wish that on even Templars. Conscription would make them unanswerable to Qunari rules, and the Wardens rarely yielded to outsiders, so we could pull them out.

Seeing it from Stroud and Sister's view now was dizzying.

“I'm sorry I did not really know your mother.” Fenris spoke carefully as if he was afraid of my reaction.

I looked up from the floor, surprised at his comment. “What? What was that for?”

Now his eyes looked baffled. “Mention of your brother and mother made you look upset. You got quiet and then resigned. Hawke usually gets angry when reminded of her loss.”

Those were old pains for me, but renewed at every mention. “I try not to remember... Carver's death too often. My twin was always there, even more than my parents or Sister. Mama... I can't quite believe I never saw her again, long after Sister's friends like you saw her.

“Instead I was thinking about who I wanted to retrieve from Kirkwall. I only can think of two more people I really want to find. I don't know how far Commander Sigrun or the Qunari will go.” Despite the destruction, I thought this invasion temporary compared to darkspawn.

“I'm glad you're thinking about that.” Sigrun spoke from the shadows of the noisy cavern and only grinned at incoming glares. “I enjoy a good brawl as much as the next Warden or the next dwarf, but I'm not going to commit too much against these giants if these dusters in this town won't fight enough to survive.”

“I'm sure they fought, Ser. I can vouch for the _survivability_ of two of them.” I hoped my tone of voice hinted at Conscription as an option.

She nodded. “Officially, we're here to retrieve our people and our suppliers. Now, we might knock a few heads who get in our way, but we have had treaties with most every group across Thedas except Qunari. Suggestions, Senior Warden?”

I knew Kirkwall, I lived here almost two years before my Joining. “Find Aveline and Varric. If anyone wants to take the Joining, we could use more Wardens to clean up and open the ruins to the Maker's light.”

“Two nugs with one blade. We'll announce it to any refugees. You! The Guard-Captain's man, tell me again. Where should we find them?”

Donnic stumbled through an explanation that mentioned Lowtown and maybe Hightown for Varric and Hightown for Aveline's quarters.

“None of those places sound like a quick sortie.” Sigrun sounded pleased.

“There may be a way from Darktown, but Sister has the key.”

“It is very close to the Viscount's residence as well.” Fenris added, looking up at the ceiling.

“We're leaving careful this time.” Sigrun looked around the dim cavern with a glare. “See if we can scrounge something other than uniforms for scouting. Lowtown first.”

“Bethany heals today, first.” Fenris stated with a growl.

That only made Sigrun grin again. “Right, Ser Knight. You stay here too, and think about some mud before you leave, you are far too unique for escaping notice. I want a detailed map yesterday of these tunnels.”

I knew more than the assigned Wardens and Fenris knew more about events since Meredith's death. So we had a lot to cover until the dwarves left to explore. Some trading with others hiding down here got enough rags to disguise the dwarves' uniforms. The taller Wardens weren't happy to be stuck here for at least a day.

As the hours passed, marked only by the slightest shifting of light coming down the air shafts, Catalin brought a few of the more injured down.

Then we started to get on each others' nerves as we waited in the pool of light. Donnic was under watch and huddled, shaking with emotion. Gradually more refugees closed to be in eyesight of Fenris and myself. Children wanted to touch his skin, almost afraid it must be hot. He was bemused.

The Knight Captain sat at the edge of the light and watched me as I carefully rationed out my healing strength for the refugees. “You were here _**that**_ day, weren't you?”

I had to smile at his accusation, despite how tired I was. “Why are you asking me? I saw her enchantment of those statues to attack us all. Then I was a little busy.”

“How can you justify all those deaths by that Anders? Of the Grand Cleric and the _leadership_ of the Gallows, mage as many as Templar?”

Unspoken in his raw question was almost betrayal, as if he didn't rate death for Sister and Anders. I was shocked by his anger and wondered why he was so angry that he lived. I couldn't speak for endless seconds and glanced at Fenris, but my lover looked angry too.

I fiddled with my hair strand for a moment. “The Maker knows that I can't justify that, Ser. That is no better than his friend being made Tranquil when he was not rebellious. I can't presume to know how the Maker will judge the deaths caused by both sides for ages.”

I prayed for the words. “I don't know Anders as well as Sister does, but I have faith that she tries the best she can. I have not always liked her decisions on family things, but that was true for my twin as well. I know she holds individuals for what they choose. We saw that Orsino knew of the research of the bloodmage who killed our mother, the spell he used at the end made that clear. Meredith ordered the death of the innocent before she called those giants. You were better than that, so she left rather than attack you.”

“What did the Grand Cleric do? What did the malificar do?”

Those were harder questions. “I can't answer all that happened. I was here after the Chantry fell and saw her only briefly. I know he was reined in by the Warden Commander in a way he cannot fight. If you find her someday, you should ask.”

“As if that is likely to happen now.” Cullen's smile was wry when he waved above us. He paused and looked at me sadly. “I knew a mage from your family before the Blight. You remind me of him a little, he had the bluest eyes very like yours and a beard. We were friends.”

“You should tell me about him, all we know came through Gamlen and he was sodden in ale and failure.”

The Templar laughed and he began to tell tales about Kinloch and a popular mage who had cut a swath through the mages and Templars when Cullen had been very young. Some of the tales touched on familiar names, but they passed the time while we waited.

Sigrun and the other dwarves returned safely, their hidden weapons unbloodied. The scouting report wasn't encouraging. The port was closed, no ships could bring help with the channel blocked. The Chantry was closed and sealed, leaving Sisters and Brothers homeless again. The Grand Cleric had been given Qunari Qamek and was working in a mine, still wearing her grimy robes. I couldn't believe she would be effective, but her fate scared anyone who saw her marching to and from the mine each day

Lowtown was unnaturally quiet, more so that the echoed hush in Darktown. Some in the Alienage were rejoicing and joining, others were as hushed as the rst of Lowtown.

Rumors that Orlais or the Divine would surely help didn't convince me. Orlesians liked their Game and plotting even if they became Wardens. They wanted to put an Emperor or Divine on the throne in Orlais more than help a Marcher port. I wouldn't be surprised at their lack of interest, few of them thought much of Fereldan Wardens, either. Kirkwall just wasn't _that_ important to the more powerful lands now that war was everywhere.

Sigrun looked down on the map we had been marking on the ground, noting the closed docks and Hightown were confirmed. The Qun transports were anchored at the Gallows, safe from easy armed attack and blocking escape by ship. “Looks like these Kirkwall dusters are hiding more than fighting. Patrols are heavier in Lowtown. No one's allowed up ramp to Hightown. Taverns are closed, so I couldn't check on your friend. You got anywhere else to find them?”

Sigrun's dislike for the uniform was useful right now. Ferelden was the exception, everywhere else was more suspicious and grudging of Wardens even in uniform. After what we found in that prison, I couldn't resent it quite as much. I picked at a stain on my silverite while Bansil reported on a harbor where ships were stripped of crew or burned to the water.

It didn't take a strategist to realize that implied Sarabas or more of their explosive powder.

“We can starve them out. That's how Hightown is usually taken, Viscount Perrin, Qunari, or Magister, doesn't matter.” Bansil nearly shouted down at Sigrun.

She didn't look impressed.

Alvirr stood opposite the other warrior and looked over Sigrun's head to glare at Bansil. “It's not our job to interfere with politics! We should leave them to it, we have more important battles to fight.”

I heard snorts from Fenris and even Cullen, but they didn't interrupt. Walda and Brosca were drinking something they found while they were out and Selco had disappeared.

Sigrun spun to smack the human Wardens hard above the knees. “It's all politics and I don't want to be the Commander who lost a perfectly fine outpost in a blighted area, do you? Or do _you_ want to tell the First Warden to stop politicking? We don't have many options, unless you swim really well or you want to live in those ruins?”

She turned to me. “Do you know any smuggling paths to get us out to Ostwick or even over the mountains to other Warden posts?”

My face warmed. “I might be able to get us to the Wounded Coast. I never learned the hidden paths very well, and that was years ago. If we get out that way there is a trail north into Starkhaven or west into the Planasene forest where Merrill's people came from.”

The now-sullen human Wardens had stepped back from the Commander and she looked at the map again. “All four options for us stink like a well-aged midden. Fight to the docks and steal a ship without the skill. Escape to the north or west and wander like a homeless nug. Hide in the old prison for a year or two and hope there is enough hardtack until this settles. Or get involved in politics up to our eyeballs like during the Blight.”

Her tone of voice was clear that she favored the last.

“I do not think you have enough, even as Wardens to take the city from the Qun. Then who do you give it to?” Fenris' voice was cold. “There are no leaders in this sty. In that the Qun are correct.”

“The Wardens will only care if the place is stable, we can recruit here, and no one interferes in our business. That's a minimum. I'd prefer to bust a few heads and get our allies and us out.” The Commander sighed at the many marks for Qunari forces.

“ _Are you leaving all of us, all of the innocents, to die or worse from these heathens?_ ” Ser Cullen accused, his voice righteous. “Sweet Andraste, I cannot think of any one else to appeal to.”

“Do you really think the Empress or Divine will drop everything to send a force fast enough to make a difference?” Brosca was smirking. “How many elven dusters have joined the attackers?”

The Templar had no answer for either question.

I felt a little sorry for him.

Sigrun added. “We will bide our time and find our quarry, then we will fight or flee.”

In another day, rumors had gone wild with sightings of Sister attacking every night when I thought it had been our group. Even ghost Templars rose out of the Chantry ruins. I wasn't convinced, as it was only her in the rumors, no Anders. She was a Warden now and if Wardens interfered, it was because of alliances. We had none in Kirkwall.

Parts of Kirkwall were quieting. A slaughter in Lowtown led to more refugees hiding in Darktown. Some converted, willingly or not. I hated the Qunari poison's effects, though the dwarves were not bothered. No one else, not even Fenris, was upset.

 _Maker!_ That bothered me more than the poison.

Lowtown and the Docks were still resisting in places, and injuries were common. Merchants were losing their stocks and workers. The docks had been devastated by missiles from the ships. Patrols came through almost hourly to the old clinic but Stane and Catalin told us that no direct threats came at the patients or healers.

Worse was the rumors of converts from the guard and Templars. Donnic was not allowed out because he was so volatile. Sigrun ordered that he be put to sleep several times.

I was losing my hopes that Aveline or Varric were free or even alive. Now I went out at night with the other scouts, looking for anyone I remembered in Lowtown or Darktown. I didn't seek to visit Uncle.

The Darktown poisoner was missing, but I didn't know if that was new. I saw how parts of the city, like the Alienage almost welcomed the Qunari, some in Darktown as well. Anger was a goad.

Almost a week after the Qun attack and Commander Sigrun came to sit with me. “I'm not sure if we should stay much longer, girl. Some elves and humans dress as they now, but I've seen no dwarf do so. After the first few days, they aren't detaining many new people, not even humans like Alvirr or Bansil. We could conscript the entire city, but that seems extreme. There's no leaders here to even draw a resistance. That mindless duster who used to be a cleric shows the cost. We can't fight _for_ nugs. We might never know what happened, Bethany. They ignore us now so they aren't interfering with Warden business.”

I understood her point but I didn't want to leave. “I'd feel better if we knew, either way. Donnic's been drinking too much because no one's heard of Aveline or seen many of the city guards.”

I didn't know what to say and this reminded me too much of how I left Mother behind, thinking she would be safe in the family mansion until I felt I could take leave and face Sister again.


	21. Familiar Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Landsmeet is chaotic when the invasion of Kirkwall is known. A base in southern Thedas is not to be allowed. Thereby is opportunity for some... and bawdy comments by others.

**Denerim, Amaranthine's mansion**

**Anders:**

Suddenly, I felt like a whirlwind battered Hawke with demands for attention and decisions, not that some didn't spill over to me, too. Tabris demanded thatwe correct our records as Wardens. Fergus bothered Hawke with countless details about equipment, forces, and Kirkwall terrain until she yelled at him. The Grand Cleric sent Hawke many notes. Trinna didn't bother with notes, she interrupted.

Hawke worried that her memories of smuggling routes were outdated. I worried about any mages trapped in Kirkwall. With visions of stitched and chained mages every time I dozed off. I tried very hard not to push for a faster departure.

No one else seemed worried aside from Teyrn Highever.

The queen demanded Trinna's attendance at a Landsmeet party, and that the Arlessa must appear confident and uninvolved in Kirkwall issues to reassure the Landsmeet. Hawke's assembling an attack force was not much of a secret, but royal forces weren't involved so Landsmeet wasn't interrupted. That didn't bother me that much, Trinna was interfering more than helping by this point.

How many enemy should we plan for? The Qunari attack years ago had been in the hundreds. They had only been the surviving troops stranded by Isabela's theft. Everyone _now_ was sure it had to be more, but how many more? Ten thousand was far too many with Tevinter expanding again. Five thousand was probably still too many, as that was a large fleet for a small target. I never wanted the Qun in Kirkwall, they allowed no escapes, the sarabas wanted no escape.

Finally, Hawke, Trinna, and Fergus decided that a force of a thousand or so was more likely and more than enough to handle the city guard. They were close enough to winning the last time with half that. The Qun might have converts in the city, and that number was unknown. Hawke's presence in her Champion armor could make that difference.

I was not as hopeful.

Late afternoon, a messenger from the Queen of Ferelden requested an audience with Hawke at Fort Drakon.

Hawke's face twitched and I squeezed her hand. I said, “I don't think I should go, love.”

Her face firming, she gripped my hand. “After this, we go everywhere any other married couple goes.”

“I can skip the walls and rooftops and hiding in dark stinky shadows?” I had to smile at the contrast. Some places she was comfortable with, but I only endured.

Hawke's face fell. “I won't be able to anymore either.” She forced a smile and said, “So, we'll still be together.”

Fergus and Hawke went to see the queen, but Hawke came back alone after dinner had passed. “Anora _suggested_ that I meet the other ambassadors before we left here. Those games should wait. But what armor are you planning on wearing for this?”

I planned on my Grey Warden armor, much less uncomfortable to wear after Hawke wore it too. But I understood the real question, was I a Warden more than the Scourge? The black was a reminder of our time as Vengeance and I didn't want to be that man anymore. “Love, I wish I had not dismantled my old armor to make the black.”

Running her fingers though the mostly gray feathers on my Warden armor, Hawke asked, “How long would it take to replace... could it be done by tomorrow night?”

Thinking, I remembered that much had taken longer because I did all the modifications myself. “I'd need help.”

Hawke plucked at her sash. “Anora offered armorers and tailors for sewing and runes to... make me more impressive. You aren't twisted by Vengeance anymore and that should be clear to anyone. I'd like to see you look more like the man I met.”

I did too, but... “I don't want to forget, to deny what happened. Part should stay black.”

“Fine, make it one piece and we can change it later if you want, but not the feathers. I want people to remember the healer of Darktown. That's closer to who you are, honey.”

This was Hawke planning for appearances, and that left me uneasy. Uneasy that I wasn't unremarkable Grey Warden Heysal, but the hated Scourge. I would be delivering myself. “Could this be a trick to get me to Fort Drakon for capture?”

Dera looked at the door where I could hear people moving, a bleak expression on her face. She spoke softly. “No. They might possibly have assassins, but they won't like what I would do if this is a trap. It would _not_ be to remove the Qunari. They want Kirkwall free of the Qunari warriors. Anora sent a handful of people to help us prepare, including a Tranquil who is an expert at runes used for the royal armor.”

I hated that and Justice tried to emerge.

Hawke grabbed our hands. “She admitted to being an active bloodmage made Tranquil long before the Blight. She worked in a shop here in Denerim, and in the palace since the Blight.”

Justice calmed at the punishment and not preemptive abuse.

I embraced my wife and said, “If I have enough help, I can finish by tomorrow night.”

We took over a larger work chamber and I laid out our armors for replacement or cleaning. Some were elves who seemed prosperous and talked about appearance and style far more than Hawke really cared.

The Tranquil was dressed in a tunic and trousers which were plain. Her blue eyes were very... calm. She made a slight humming noise as she examined the runes in our armor. Then she spoke to me, with a glance at my staff. “It does not hurt.”

I looked at the neat braid and graying hair, trying not to grind my teeth. “I would think it would be like the phantom pains someone feels who lost a hand. Those feelings have been cut off, after all.”

“Do you feel the loss of having no Stone Sense as a human? You don't have that ability any more than any surface dwarf.” Her reason was still present.

“I never had that ability, so wondering about the Stone is curiosity and maybe envy. You had feelings, or don't you remember that?” I couldn't help making fists as I spoke to her.

Unlike my unrest, her eyes were dispassionate. “Envy was once considered one of the types of demons, something to shun. Lust and greed together included envy as a portion. I remember having feelings, but they were a distraction, much like how a small child might have a tantrum. A child who has no care for her toys.”

Hawke gripped my arm. “But children can be taught better and they can grow up to be good people even if they misbehaved.”

The Tranquil put on a painful and forced smile. “I would not have forgotten how simple reaching out to nudge and make things go as I wanted them. Maybe it was like legends where a human raised by wolves never was fully human. To me, non-mages were barely better than animals and the crippled Circle mages were half as weak as I thought myself. I no more understand what I thought and felt before, than understood before why burning my brother was bad when I was little.”

Her expression remained calm, even if her story was familiar.

I remembered Karl, and looked at Hawke and the elven armorers. “Would you have _wanted_ to live like this?”

The Tranquil blinked. “No, I wanted my magic and loved exploring my limits.” She looked at me closer. “But I was very sure of my limits and did not risk my life with my magic. I would never have made a grand gesture with my death on my defeat. I am content with all that passed.”

I didn't understand that, but Tranquil rarely lied.

Hawke's Champion armor didn't need change, we would just replace fabric too often mended and re-gild the metal. If I had more time I would have worked on improvements for her runes. Mine, I tried to return my armor to turquoise and brown like what Hawke remembered. I wanted to wear my refurbished black pauldrons, to remind me, but packed them away. In all, it looked like a new set of the armor I wore at first in Kirkwall, except I added some red tint and piping to the brown parts of the coat to match Hawke more.

It also matched the enchanter's gem Irving gave me at the Sacred Ashes shrine.

Irving's comments were more apt than I'd ever wanted to admit. I wanted to help protect the mages from the Chantry _and_ Templars, not just get them more freedom. Any Tranquils like this one made me feel like I'd failed, even if she had been made Tranquil around the time I was first hauled in by the Templars.

We went out to view Fergus' ship. Hawke liked its size because we could have a tiny cabin. The crew was used to mabari, so the ship had few ladders compared to other ships. What made this odd to me was that we were sailing as ourselves.

It almost seemed more proper when some minor officer tried to stab me with a sharp ship's blade as Hawke crawled around in one of the holds. “Traitor to the Maker! Foul Maleficar. You slaughtered Andraste's handmaid just as She was killed. You never should have been born!”

The blade sliding into my chest was all too familiar.

Justice's rage was now as familiar as an old shoe.

Pushing the mate away required little effort from Justice, until the sailor thudded with a crack of something breaking against the bulkhead. My vision grayed as I looked up at the deck above.

I was sinking, even if I felt no fear. _-Don't kill him._

_**You delay the inevitable.** _

The pain was swallowing my thought. _-Just don't._

The storm of magic spread out from me as I saw the sailor slide to the deck. Then I faintly heard Hawke scream.

When I woke, my head was resting on something warm and soft. I hurt too much to smile. “Does he live?”

“Nice to see you too, Anders. I'm getting you a _dozen_ mabari. You need that many nannies you can't out-talk.” Her voice was angry and face expressionless.

Now I knew what to say. “If he dies from my actions, it will be the Scourge who killed him, not a trial. Neither Meredith or even Vael wanted trials. Does he live?”

Hawke spat. “His legs are paralyzed. Now you are to finish healing yourself, my potion could only do so much.”

By the time Hawke got me to my feet, Fergus and the Captain arrived, furious. They held the court martial on deck and Hawke's face was so cold when the mutiny was ruled. The mate was hung and body hauled away in a heavy silence that carried over to the other ships nearby. Other sailors didn't argue but their silence was just short of sullen. A handful left the ship, but no one told us what happened after that.

I was showing Hawke my modified armor with Irving's gift the next night when I heard a knocking at the window of our bedroom.

A second later and the window swung open with a click and Isabela slid in. “I hear there's a new Viscount in town. You could have saved a lot of effort by bedding the boy before he got himself killed and just inherited the title.”

“Isabela!” Hawke smiled her first real smile in days and hugged the pirate.

“Well now, those rags are much prettier on you than what I saw you in last, mage. That is a very nice gem, too.” Isabela's tunic was now the bright color of a citron.

I preened. “Irving gave me this after we saw you. I want to keep your eyes front and center.”

“Hawke, I hear you're in tight with Cousland now, too. She still good in the sack?”

Another body, that of the elven assassin Zevran, entered the window and clicked it closed with a grin. “My dear Captain is always displeased when her acquisitiveness has been thwarted?” His smile widened. “Or maybe it is her inquisitiveness. She is a seeker in her own way.”

That I didn't like. “Hawke's in _my_ sack for good.” I wanted to warn 'Bela.

Isabela patted our cheeks, her voice husky with her interest. “No, I don't want to separate you kittens. You never did tell me if she's got good taste.”

I flushed at the old memory and so did Hawke.

“How cute!” laughed the pirate.

Hawke finally spoke. “We married.”

Isabela pouted. “You know how to ruin the sex.”

That I could grin at. “Hasn't ruined it, so far.”

“Speaking about ruining your fun, I hear you're going back to Kirkwall because the hornheads moved in. I'm not sure if that takes balls, or you're crazy, Hawke.”

Hawke moved to the tray of alcohol. “Both. We left Bethany and Fenris at a Grey Warden camp just outside the city. Varric and Avelene are in the city, too.”

“Hawke, they've got one of their dreadnaughts in their fleet. Those can carry a thousand little hornheads by themselves,” Isabela said.

“You's seen their ships? How many are there?” Hawke looked sharply at the pirate.

Isabela sat on the bed and ran her hand over the rumpled covers with a smirk. “Three ships passed by us very early on the second. They either didn't spot us or didn't care about useless things like cargo ships.”

Hawke asked her, “Do you want in on _this_ fight, Isabela? I don't know it there's going to be booty. I'm not even sure we won't be fugitives after this even if we win.”

A chuckle came from the Antivan as he examined a bottle. “I am not at all sure why it is you dog-lords want to stay when your enemies hold not just the cards but the table and dealer as well.”

Paws snorted at that and rose to his feet.

“No offense, my furred friend. I well remember the fine qualities of the Warden's Mouser but I wonder if your partners are as rational as you.

“Hawke, the Chanter in the market spoke against the heathen Qunari and an earlier March. Kirkwall is _much closer_ than Rivain and they're scared of what happened there.”

I was almost shocked about a Chanter doing that in public. “The Chantry can't call on the Templars for a March against the Qunari. They Templars are too busy hunting down mages to care what happens to the rest of Thedas.”

Hawke shook her head. “They missed that the building is burning down.”

Isabela looked eager. “I want in, I still owe them for my old ship and crew. Would the Viscount owe me a favor then?”

Hawke grinned nastily. “You want a job? I could make you Admiral of the Harbor Defense or something. I doubt there will be much in the treasury, unless you'll take cookies.”

That surprised Isabela and her mouth opened and closed a couple of times as she looked at Hawke, seeking the joke.

Hawke shook her head. “Favors are same as ever, Captain. I'm always glad to help my friends with their problems, especially _before_ it becomes a war. Right now, finding my sister and Kirkwall are most important.”

“I've got three ships, two taken as prizes since last year when everyone got testy. Shipping is down unless in convoys for safety. We aren't seeing that many interesting targets.”

Hawke looked up in the air. “We're meeting tomorro... today to finish with what Highever can gather...”

Isabela shook her head and made a dismissive gesture. “Highever's ship is fast but they aren't experienced with sea battle. With good winds we might get there in a couple of days for all that will do if the harbor chain is up... If I'm Admiral, _The Sea Cockerels_ will be the flag ship. It's better armed and experienced.” She smacked her lips and looked at us. “But I don't have many cabins.”

Hawke stiffened, but didn't object. I stepped behind her and she relaxed against me.

Then our talk turned to events like Provings and Ashes, Vael and Grey Wardens in general. Corypheus was mentioned, though she thought Bethany and Fenris were hilarious. We worked our way through much of the alcohol on the tray, but they left before dawn to return later.

Fergus announced on his arrival about some volunteers and we told him about Isabela's ships. Cousland and Isabela went off to chat with Alistair.

We got to keep the assassin with the polished accent. I didn't really like him, but I would be stupid to turn his assistance aside. He flirted with Hawke and not the Teyrn even as he reminded Hawke that he owed her... a favor.

Pulling Hawke closer, I reminded him, “We're married.”

The elf only smiled at me. “Well, that doesn't mean I cannot assist you. Wardens often forget that there is more to pleasure than tents and dark places. I learned a salve from a friend of a friend to make your experience more vital instead of a chore...”

I bared my teeth. I didn't _need_ tutoring.

“Though perhaps the Champion has no need of some favors.” He smirked at my anger.

Isabela updated our charts as Fergus left with Hawke to interview our growing forces. We had maybe five hundred and the Qunari had as many as two thousand. We didn't know how many in Kirkwall could fight, would fight for the Qunari, or would fight for us.

I felt uneasy at the whole idea of us having forces. This many people knew where she was, where we were. Were there still any Crows waiting in the shadows, or those who wanted justice for what we did?

“You look a little disturbed by this planning, Warden. Perhaps we should speak of more pleasant things,” Zevran said. “Do you need assistance in planning your honeymoon? ”


	22. An Inside-Out Siege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's protest on the steps of the Chantry gets more pushback from the Knight-Commander.

_** Starkhaven, on the steps of the Great Chantry ** _

_** Sebastian Vael: ** _

Jayne objected to my removal of my armor during my vigil, but I would not respond to her accusations. Instead I returned to my discussions with the other faithful.

“Brother, you fought and killed while you were in Kirkwall with the... Champion. How can you reconcile violence with this vigil?” The young woman Domas yawned, but fought to keep her eyes open as she spoke.

“Andraste led an army of faithful against the Imperium. Fighting for the lives and souls of the least of the Maker's children is never forbidden. Duarn abused his rank and his vows to the Chantry, harming just because his pride was offended. He failed to protect his charges.” 

I looked over the crowd. “I fought in Kirkwall, and a few of those battles I regret deeply. Most of those battles would have had Andraste's smile. Fighting, especially to defend yourself or loved ones is not a sin. Harming someone just because you can, is. That is pride, the worst of the demons, difficult enough to face with weapons and even harder when we must face ourselves.

“We are the seeds, to remind our brothers and sisters to turn away from the demons, no matter how tempting the fires of wrath and heights of pride become. We are all brothers and sisters, the Maker's children. We can stop sinners, but we should not be proud of their fall... we could be the next to fall so we must show mercy when we can. Justice without mercy is vengeance, which combines wrath and pride. The virtues are our armor: compassion, mercy, grace, charity, and love... Though I admit it's hard to love Duarn right now.”

Some chuckles rippled through the quiet crowd. A Templar group walked away. I couldn't see if the Commander was in the group, but I was certain. He would not have remained quiet when I implied he was an abomination.

Jayne was exasperated, but she'd given up on arguing at least for now.

After a week of the growing crowd, the tension between myself and the Templar patrols continued to sharpen. My hunger clawed, difficult to ignore; I made sure the others ate first from the offerings. My padding was not wearing well. Soon I could easily spot which of my growing congregation were constant, their clothing was showing wear as mine was.

Ser Jayne remained intact and proper, and no one commented on her presence, though I waited for it. She did not eat in my presence, but a guard from the palace replaced her briefly each day. I was disappointed, but my vigil was not her duty.

At two weeks, I worried that I felt weaker, even with pacing and moving around as I spoke. I considered asking for my bow, just for the exercise, but had to make do with stretches and pushups in the morning before I washed.

Duarn visited again, the morning after one of the high services inside the Chantry. I regretted that more were now in my group that were inside the Chantry. I would have to apologize after this to Mother Cithol.

Starkhaven's Knight Commander arrived, neat and precise in his formal armor, a contrast to my soiled padding that wasn't appreciated by me. “I'm not sure you are a princeling, Vael. You look much more like a beggar, or one of those refugees from Kirkwall or Ferelden who keep washing up along the Minanter. I _should_ roust my men to remove the beggars cluttering the entry of the Chantry.”

“You have no authority over the faithful, gathering peacefully on the steps of the Chantry.” I knew this to my soul.

He grinned. “ _ **I am Knight Commander of Starkhaven**_ , I have _all_ the authority I need to order anyone. I can order them to defend the Chant and protect the Chantry in _any_ way I see fit. I can order the annulment of the entire Tower of those mages you pamper, at any time.” 

Two of his men roughly grabbed hold of me.

I could hear a few cries from the crowd, and he looked around with a snarl. The glint in his eyes said this was a threat to _me_. I held my face and body still with difficulty. He could not harm me here. I did not know if any mages I had met like the expectant Chloe, were still whole. _Andraste protect the mothers of_ _Starkhaven_ _from every threat..._

When I didn't budge, he only nodded with perhaps a little respect. “Ser Jayne, today I have received messages from Val Royeaux and the Knight Vigilant. One has your name. Perhaps you would like to read it.”

Her hand shaking a trifle, Jayne took the sealed parchment and tore it open. She scanned it rapidly.

Duarn gloated, smirking into my face. “Ser Jayne, on my authority as Knight Commander, you will assist in arresting former Brother Vael, on charges of sedition and heresy. He will be defrocked and scourged until he has proven repentant.”

She crumpled the parchment. “I will have no part of this. The Brother has permission of the Mo... I resign my commission, effective immediately.”

“Get her out of _our_ armor, she is a disgrace to the sword.” The Commander glowed with pride and spite.

“The Sword is of Mercy, you...” Jayne stripped off her outer armor before they could touch her. She stood there in her padding as the Templars ripped it from her roughly.

My fists clenched at their rough handling, but they went no further.

He smiled at her. “It doesn't matter, you cannot protect your mage-lover now. Take him away.”

They dragged me toward the Tower, close in distance but now a cold Void. _Andraste protect me and give me strength._

My consolation were the cries of outrage from my congregation. Domas' shouting carried the most. I fought to resist cringing and begging for mercy as I was dragged from the crowd.

The unfinished bulk leeched  the  light of Andraste's love from me and I clung to her words, still true after all these ages.  _'There I saw the Black City,_ _Its tower forever stain'd, Its gate forever_ _sealed_ _._ _All Thedas_ _has been filled with silence...'_ I wondered how her Chant could spread when we cannot sing?

I had no words when my missing finger ached to be back inside this Tower. I saw no mages as I was hauled into the lower level. These Templars threw me into the cell and smote me, even if it wasn't nearly as harmful.

Still conscious, that was no blessing as the nightmare began, beatings and spite by Duarn's men as he directed. Accusations, demands, and threats. He was in a tremendous and personal rage that I didn't understand; it was as if I had disappointed and betrayed him. I had never met him before I last came home, but that rage was almost demonic. 

I wanted to remember Andraste's trials, and I tried to protect my vitals. 

It finally ended and I was left alone to ache in the dim cell, my one eye nearly swollen shut. I didn't know how long I had been in here and I had to hold to my faith that I would be rescued. I didn't want to think of those who would not have anyone to rescue them. As I grew used to the silence, I could hear there were others but I wasn't sure if they were real, my imagination, or demons. I prayed, but it was hard to be sure how much time had passed. I prayed for hope, alone with my faith. 

A young and frightened Templar finally fed me, but I could not eat much. My neck was in pain and I had trouble seeing. Orders to eat could not overcome the pain and smaller stomach. I could drink water in small portions and after that I was carried up into the public rooms, blinking at the too-bright light.

Jayne's dark hair was almost surrounded by a nimbus of light, and she had a squad of angry looking soldiers and Mother Cithol.

Someone cried out and I was ashamed that it might have been me.

Then Mother Cithol frowned, disappointed in me again and turned to Duarn. “Commander, you reported that he was resisting you and fighting your men. It is clear from his hands that His Highness has not been resisting you; neither was he possessed by a demon...”

Unable to contain my surprise, I finally focused enough to see the black armbands on the officers Jayne brought in. _What happened?_

No one said anything in the tense and heavy silence. They must have argued before. Two of the Palace guards supported me in a gentler way as Jayne glared at Duarn. They rushed me outside and I was not the only one taking a breath of clean air.

When I eyes had adjusted to the sunny day, I was shocked again. The entire square and the streets leading into it, was filled with blurry people.

Silent people, until a wave of noise spread ahead of us and quieted. 

Laborers, children, soldiers, merchants, strangers, Sisters, bar maids, riverboat polemen, as well as people from the vigil on the steps, it seemed that most of Starkhaven was standing here as witness. 

As I passed more of them, I could see that many wore armbands or mourning, and a chill passed through me. There was was only one person who would create such an expression of grief, my cousin.

The sigh seemed to come from the depths of my soul, grief warring with my relief at my escape from the silence and pain. My pained smile came from a brighter place than the dark silence. 

Duarn was forced to bow. 

He bowed without explosions or mass deaths or demons. This was not finished _, but I hoped and prayed we had turned the corner._

I did not truly know what had happened since I was taken.

I wasn't even sure how long I had been held prisoner.

I realized that neither Sister Marsaili or anyone of the Council other than the Mother, had been in the crowd. That was prudent. Mother Cithol spoke to the crowd and Domas spoke after her. 

I couldn't hear what they said as I was getting an earful from Jayne. Nor was I as alert as I should be as she scolded me, but I was glad to hear her talk like the most melodic of cobblestones. The palace loomed over us and I shook off most of their support. I would enter the palace on my own feet.

A murmur spread through the crowd that followed us, but I slid through the supporting and encumbering arms, and embraced Jayne. She was steadier on her feet and supported me still. I needed the warmth of human touch and at first could only look into her eyes, hoping that I had not lost her support despite our disagreement. Her dark eyes were warm again and I drank in her expression, clean of the darker and colder emotions that filled the Templars in the tower.

When we finished our embrace, she smiled at me. “You need a bath, Sebastian.”

I agreed with her sentiment, but only smiled through my giddiness. I did not want to embarrass myself in front of the crowd with how had my voice and composure had changed. At the palace entrance, a hush fell over the already quiet crowd and I felt ashamed that I had been so easily distracted by Jayne's hair.

Mother Cithol paused and turned to face me at the Gatehouse. “Your Highness, I regret to be the one to inform you, but your cousin's heart failed him. You have been Called to serve the Maker and Starkhaven, this day. Enter your palace and your yoke.”

Though I had almost expected this, it was still a shock. I was in Kirkwall when my parents had been killed, and the crown went to my cousin was long done, well or ill. My mouth opened and closed when I did not know what to say.

The duty-watch commander greeted me formally as presumptive ruler, and dusty lessons were suddenly renewed. I'd thought my brothers or sister would say these words, not me. I fumbled my formal response with my voice cracking and only one working eye. I hoped that I would be forgiven. The ceremony helped calm me.

I missed these for my parents. My grief for their deaths returned to my heart and I found I was weeping more for them than my cousin.

I wasn't even sure these ceremonies had been done by my cousin after they died, as I was sure he must have begun his reign in uncertainty edged into place by the Harrimans. They could not have put him on the throne alone, and I would always have to be careful that they might decide that Starkhaven needed a new bloodline. The irony was that I might trust assassins and mages more than my council.

What worried me more as I was taken to the chapel, was that Goran's death would bring suspicion on me. I knew I was innocent, but that shadow would hang over me, too. I tried not to dwell on that.

I viewed my cousin, laid out in his bier. He did not look good, even aside from being dead. There were signs of great pain despite the efforts of the Sisters to prepare him for the fire. And that raised the thought of poison. I didn't use it, not like Hawke or even Varric would in a combat. There it was risky for the user as much as the victim. 

I could not condone it outside of combat. Now I could wonder why it had not been used for the Grand Cleric. Hawke used it.

But now I had no trusted source to help check for the poison here. I knew of a handful: bells of the Fade, fungus, certain branches, apple seeds... Did it matter which poison? A Crow was only a tool and had little interest in the reasons.

The list of who might kill the ruling Prince of Starkhaven was much longer, and I knelt in prayer by the bier. Before this week there were only the three of the Vael family left. Any others had little more of the blood than ancestors who married into other noble lines in other countries. For all I knew, some might have ended up in Tevinter or even a poor neighborhood in Orlais. 

The Council would never approve of marriage to Jayne. They would approve of my making her my inamorata, if I must. But I had an heir, a daughter who resisted being pulled from the contemplative life. I should give her that much.

Alliances would be in the Council's mind and I could guess a few candidates just from my travels: one of the many charming and deadlyValisti princesses, the steadfast Pentaghasts, the Orlesian sisters of Prospero, and Lady Fargin in Ostwick. We needed allies who had no territorial ambitions to help ensure Starkhaven's safety.

Regardless of my qualms and wishes, my duty was clear. Starkhaven needed me and my place was to preserve it and hand it over to my successor in better state than I found it. Today's gathering said our faith and resolve were firm, but we needed to overcome the demons, no matter what face they wore.

I looked up and realized that night had fallen. The chapel was nearly empty as I privately mourned. 

I started to rise from kneeling and realized that I was unsteady on my feet. Guards almost swooped in to support me. When we reached my suite it had many more guards, and Lady Eladiss waited for me.

She curtseyed and took a seat in my public room as food was carried in. Jayne gave me a welcome healing potion, and a guard tasted the warm foods before they were presented to me. Portions were small and many dishes were my favorites. The taster failed to die and I was signaled that I could eat now in a leaden silence.

The lady watched as I dined, her propriety adding to my discomfort at her immediate presence. I paused in my careful dining, noting how fine and perfectly she wore the costume of a noblewoman. She had the reputation of being a modest and family-loving member of the Council. But I had seen her display her manipulations of the nobility, including the rest of the Council when when she blocked my goals. Despite the fact that I was the one with the superior rank, she maintained her haughty superiority as we measured how we might deal with each other now.

She must have decided that I was necessary, instead of bypassing me in favor of the younger, and more easily manipulated Sister Marsaili. She was the very essence of nobility and privilege, despite whatever duties she fulfilled for Goran.

I wasn't sure I wanted her service.

She finally spoke. “Your highness, I regret that we must rush these issues, but I oversaw your cousin's security, and I believe that I have failed in that and will turn my duties over as soon as you have a replacement.”

I shook my head, as I knew of no one better here in my home.

Lady Eladiss nodded. “We thought it was an illness, that time and potions would complete his recovery. I am sure we have had no strangers close to your cousin in the last few weeks. The unrest outside Starkhaven borders has made us very careful.”

When I finished my sip of white, I said, “I am sure you have considered the Crow, but has any of the palace servants left or died recently? Has someone expert in poisons examined his body? Our actions depend too much on finding the poisoner or at least poison.”

“We have been able to buy the information that at least one contract was purchased against the Vael family. We must be aware of the likelihood that the Champion and Scourge are reacting to those contracts you hired last year. You or your cousin, may he sing with Andraste herself, were targeted due to your public threats to them. She had connections with the underbelly of Kirkwall and was known to use poisons...”

I sat up so suddenly that my neck cracked. 

To the Lady Eladiss I stated my wishes explicitly. “I would consult those I knew in Kirkwall. The Grand Cleric Elthina has been on my mind greatly of late. But if the Champion thought someone was a threat she would kill them herself, quickly, not through slow poison. She used poisons like magebane and slow-time to shorten combat. If she wanted me dead, she would strike me down in open combat. She is a barbarian Fereldan, after all.”

Hawke wouldn't really deny that. She refused adopting any modes of Orlais or Rivain. I couldn't help touching my chest where her dagger had gotten stuck against my ribcage.

“Sebastian!” Jayne sounded angry.

I took her hand, and decided. “This is a State secret now and you are not to record or reveal this to anyone without my explicit permission upon all the charges of treason.” When they bowed, I nodded and explained about them seeking the Shrine and Ashes. And more importantly, about their fairness and mercy when I attacked them. “I demanded he face the Maker's judgment, and he did. Now they are old friends who went astray but are not completely lost to the Maker. If they come, you will welcome them in hospitality... though maybe not in public.”

“How can you be sure you were not...?”

This was tiring and I could not resist showing my annoyance. “Changing from my experiences doesn't demand that it be done through magic.” I held up my hand with the stump where my finger had been. “If there had been any dark magic by them, it would have come out at this time. There was much shouting and argument. The rot was more advanced in Kirkwall, but it has spread everywhere. The Chantry has not been willing to face it. I will, even if I can only make a haven here in Starkhaven. Mages will still live in Circles and pass the Harrowing but they deserve the same right to live free from abuse. They can make songs and art and recipes for flan. The Maker wants our creativity, not cobblestones and mud.”

My voice was feeling parched, and once I had another sip of wine and a few more bites of the food, sleep beckoned. “They do not wish me dead, so we will not waste precious time. This attack, if there was one, has local roots and we must find who would commit regicide.”

Suddenly, I was exhausted. The fine meal became as sleep inducing as a draught and I did not wish to fence with my Council leader.

“His highness needs sleep. He can see the Council in the morning, before the funeral.” Jayne spoke briskly and practically marched Eladiss out of the suite. When she helped me to the washroom and bed, I regretted that she did not join me in either.

I did not regret long before I slept.

The meeting with the Council was less comfortable than my previous one. They were relieved I was not planning to call an invading army to seek vengeance against Kirkwall. They also worried about my intentions regarding the Knight Commander. 

Duarn could not remain. He was a disgrace to the Chantry and his vows. 

The Council thought I was soft as well, but I waved my hand at them. “He put his hands on the heir to the throne for spite. Mages and Templars may battle elsewhere, but there will be merciful peace here. No one is above responsibility to the Maker for their actions.”

I could not be sure how much they approved of my plans. 

My cousin's service was beautiful, as we prayed that the flames would help cleanse him of any weakness. He was a worthy man and discharged his duty responsibly. I was sure he was at the Maker's side. Sister Marsaili sang from the Chant. She had a lovely voice and a well considered elegy.

I said only a few words, my voice failing me.

Within a week, my appetite returned and my injuries healed. The swelling in my eye went down and I did not lose any function. Domas led the vigil in my name on the Chantry steps. I would have preferred that the pressure from the faithful remained less overt, but I could not participate now.

I took the reign name of Sebastian. I believed I was the first to take that name, but it was clear the world was changing as I was, and I wanted to sing the glory of the Maker's creation as much as I could.

What wasn't changing was that Jayne was still guarding me, as if our private time had never happened. She ceased to respond to my humor or minor flirtations. My huge and new princely bedchamber was the only room where I could expect any privacy, but it seemed empty. _Was she that angry that my cause cost her her_ _commission_ _?_

Weeks after I became Prince Regnant, I still had no answer for how my cousin died. No one had left service aside from a wash maid, and Lady Eladiss had added more guards. I tired more easily. I wasn't recovering from the beating very well, and I realized that my major injuries for nearly ten years had been healed by mages. Now I healed as my people healed, slowly.

Starkhaven patrols guarded the Chantry vigil. The Templars had their own patrol, that watched those outside the Chantry. 

They were waiting. 

Waiting for some message or additional forces, because most of the Templars were Starkhaven native and were brought up on the stories of Grandfather. Whose forces he expected was another question, and I found it more disturbing than my general did. 

Maybe I was more suspicious.

I received only a few messages of condolence on my loss, from Orlais, Antiva, and even Ferelden. These were impersonal, but with their troubles I could not be surprised. 

Guilt loomed, because I was doing nothing. I learned my official duties and listened to my advisors for most things, though I was determined to pick my battles wisely. I would not weaken Starkhaven in this time of unrest and opportunistic conquest. Tevinter had taken a city as had Orlais, before a the banner of rebellion raised in Orlais itself. The Qunari had a fleet missing near Seheron according to the latest news. Tevinter had a wide coast, but they were used to fighting the Qun. I had received nothing official from Ostwick and Antiva.

After court business and my prayers, I attempted to draw a code for the Templar, and mage, civility in our law. The anniversary of the events in Kirkwall was approaching and I planned a solemn occasion for the dead, where I wanted to memorialize all their names.

On the first day of August, Jayne came to me in the morning. “The Tower is too quiet, deliveries have been turned away.”

They acted. I rose and called for the commander of the guard. “We are entering the Tower.”

My council and Guard Captain objected, but I would not hear it. Mother Cithol decided to come to try to temper my anger. Maybe I wanted to purge my bitterness, but I arrived at the Tower before midday.

When the Lieutenant in the lead checked the door, he signaled that there was no response or sound. I was not quite a bowshot away, though Jayne held a huge tower shield beside me, ready to intercept any missiles.

The door opened without any resistance and my guard moved inward. As I moved closer horror choked my throat when a draft of a charnel coppery stench reached me.

Nothing seemed amiss. The reception area was clean and empty and I prayed as we moved forward. We passed an empty study area that looked a little forlorn and dusty. Only a few books left behind hinted that the rooms were in use.

My fears swelling my heart, I pushed forward as we passed what looked like apprentice quarters with smaller bunks. Small workrooms held corpses of mages, mostly young... far too young. One whimpered and Mother rushed forward with a healer. The Sister started to retrieve potions and they began to work on the victim when we moved ahead.

I followed behind my Guardsmen, bow drawn, and I could hear cries from echoing from ahead or nowhere. Were these cries of living victims or had they sundered the Veil with blood? And who was responsible? Jayne stood in front of me, her objections ended.

We reached the central chamber, but two Templars were posted at that door. I was not sure their allegiances. One spoke through the door before it slammed shut. He was tense and had his weapons drawn. 

The other was more belligerent. “You have no authority here.”

“This is Starkhaven, and I am Prince. Stand aside.” I was no longer going to argue or persuade.

He stood down after snarling. “The Knight Vigilant will have you and your supporters destroyed. Anyone who helps a mage escape the Circle loses everything they own.”

I smiled. “I have _**no**_ intention of removing the mages. I am removing Duarn, that pustule on the buttocks of Thedas. He has broken Starkhaven law and Chantry law. Take these fools for trial.”

They resisted, but not much.

We went through the door after my Guard opened the door. I tried to wait patiently. _Please, Andraste..._

The smell of blood reached me before I saw through the open doorway. I saw a... pile of bodies, an abattoir. Newly Tranquil with blackened skin were holding younger mages who seemed catatonic. Templars were taking a spasmodically moving body to the pile.

“You are too late, Vael. _**We decide**_ if these animals, these monsters live or die. Thedas is safer if they die so that they can't corrupt more like weak fools like you.” Duarn had been splashed by so much blood that the red of his Templar robes was black. “But look, I gave that slut mercy. She will never need to fear demonic temptation again.”

Chloe was calmly, too calmly, sitting at a table with quill and parchment. The brand of the Maker a mockery of His mercy. _Dear Maker, protect the Child of this horror._

Pregnant mages were _not_ made Tranquil. I did not know how that might affect her child.

My gorge rose, at the thought of an infant made Tranquil. 

With a shout of anger and agony, I drew and shot Duarn in the face. “May the Maker have mercy on their souls.” I could not say it for Duarn as he deserved only the Void.

A few of the Templars fought us after that, but they were quickly taken down. A few had been elsewhere and surrendered. There had fewer in the Tower than I expected.

My face was wet from weeping as I tried to speak to Chloe. My soldiers cut down any that did not surrender at once. I would have to delegate trials to joint judgments by by Starkhaven and Chantry. I did not trust myself. Not that I doubted the outcomes.

Tranquil would make for honest and dispassionate witnesses once they were treated. Only a few mages survived, those who did managed to lock themselves away, perhaps with approval of some Templars. None were senior Enchanters. Duarn's office had much about his 'release' from Chantry law. Rape of their charges and torture of myself were charges that carried death penalties.

Mother Cithol was grim as she read snippets dating back to the time that reconstruction began. She'd wanted to believe it was only recent. But Duarn was given carte blanche as long as he kept the mages under control and ready to act against Starkhaven's neighbors.

The Starkhaven Tower was effectively annulled... despite lack of any validating evidence. There were perhaps two score newly Tranquil, who helped with the investigation. I asked the Mother to try to determine if any were redeemable, but she wasn't sure.

The shock of the deaths and large number of newly Tranquil left me silent as I returned to the palace by evening.

A golden light shined out from the palace chapel. The memorial ceremony for Elthina and all the other victims of the Kirkwall fighting was not the contemplative and affirming service I'd hoped for.

I wanted to announce Duarn's crimes, but that would diminish the solemn occasion..

The trials did not take long. I'd wanted them before dawn, but I was convinced to make them open for the public the next day. I wanted their crimes known by all. Most were to be executed.

I rose before the cool dawn to witness their executions along with both the Council and the senior in the Chantry. 

With a heavy heart, I requested that my daughter witness as well.

They were hung, like common criminals. I considered not allowing their bodies to be burned, but I limited that condemnation to Duarn's remains. He was quartered and would be sent to be dumped at sea as garbage. The trial records would be sent to the Divine and Knight Vigilant, cosigned by the Mother, along with a carefully worded request for replacements.

“He will not accept these actions, Sebastian.” Jayne warned me. 

The morning birdsong was quieting as I wrote the draft for my secretary to polish. Despite my exhaustion and being awake for almost two days, the blood in the Tower and concern about Chloe's babe would not let me sleep. “Then the Knight-Vigilant needs to keep his own house clean. Duarn should not have been promoted, and he should have been demoted before Kirkwall, before Satanalia at worst. Are none of the survivors ethical?”

She looked troubled. “Some might be salvageable, but they condoned these actions and participated in lesser crimes.”

I looked at her. “Are you willing to act as interim Commander until we hear from Orlais?”

“Of course, your Highness.” Her salute was crisp and I had to turn away for a moment.

I said, “I will commend you to the Divine and I'm sure Mother Cithol will do likewise. I believe that will redeem any difficulty from Duarn's venom. I hope you will be able to advance, here or at another post as you desire. You have been an exemplary guard and loyal to the Chant in difficult circumstances...” 

Few treated me as anything other than Prince anymore. My daughter's fragile respect had quickly become the same distant respect I had given my parents. Mother Cithol still spoke to me like I was much younger, especially in private.

I succeeded in erasing my foolish libertine reputation but that left me only duty echoing into the future. 

Jayne made a scornful noise. “The Knight Vigilant is still playing the Great Game, as if this is a more peaceful time. Starkhaven has always been faithful, but...”

I had to rub my forehead and sit back as she paced. “We have no confirmation of Duarn's orders from the Knight Vigilant. The lack of communication is suspicious.”

“He gathers forces, without any Divine call for a March. What he wants to do with it... There is no mage army forming that connect Towers and sweeping conquest. General Hartovan is tracking movements by Tevinter, the Qun, Orlais, and the Knight Vigilant. The only other major force missing is if Grey Wardens would mass in Ansburg. I think no others would covet Starkhaven, we have no coastline.”

That made me feel better. I really needed people who remembered Brother Vael, Sebastian Vael, traveler and seeker. “I can thank the Maker you came to guard me. I hope we can be a haven from all this war, to inspire others to make their peace as well.”

The silence got tense and I turned to look up at her again.

She looked at me with a puzzled face and I had no idea why.

“Am I missing something, my dear? If there is a problem?”

She dropped to her knees so we were eye to eye and her gauntleted hand pulled me against the side of the chair as her lips found mine.

My fingers slid around the steel of her armor to hold her. I wanted to feel the soft woman behind the armor. At least I could touch her hair.

Well, and her sweet mouth.

I finally felt the arm of the chair as being a little painfully in the way and I had to stop. “I missed this... missed you. I thought you were no longer interested.”

She sighed. “You're a prince, I'm from the trade quarter of Val Royeux. You will have to make a marriage alliance. I didn't want to be your kept woman, with whispers about me everywhere I go. I will leave...”

That made me frown. “Did I ever hint at that? I am not that young man who was banished for his foolishness. The world is swept by war and here is my opportunity to bring peace in a way Elthina would have approved. I will always be bit of a Brother. It won't be easy to guide and protect all my people, but I want you at my side to face the Maker's trials.” 

Jayne looked disappointed and a little angry. She looked like she was trying to find the words.

I thought back and realized my error. “Jayne, I cannot marry you until I can secure Starkhaven's safety, whatever it might cost me. I... I can only promise you the present and my respect. Please stay, at least for a while.” 

She remained doubtful.

I saw her lips open to object again. So I kissed her again. I repeated that until she stopped objecting and the carved chair creaked under our weight.

Tracing the needlework on my tunic, Jayne said, “I can't protect you very well like this.”

“I have had many guards, most competent and only one ever tried to kill me. Dear, you are loyal and faithful. And you are willing to speak frankly to me, not to who I used to be or what I represent. That is more important to the Maker than _any_ title. I spent most of my life as the younger son, reluctant to become a responsible Vael. You earned your place and I admire you greatly for that.” I could see she looked doubtful. “Admiring your more carnal assets is not suggested in the etiquette manuals I memorized and forgot. Marry me.”

I grew afraid at her expression. “Please, Jayne.”

“I'm not sure I want to be in that fishbowl. I want to serve Andraste and the Maker.”

I worried about that too: the desire to serve in a pure fashion. I could offer one more thing. I let go of her and leaned back a little. “I could offer a spiritual union, if that would make you more comfortable. We would remain allies and share each others' company and purpose to care for Starkhaven and its people, but no carnal relations.”

I would tame that imp of lust to be content with that half loaf of partnership.

Jayne looked at me searchingly, but I didn't know why. 

_Andraste, guide me._ I added, “If you want to leave Starkhaven, please allow me enough time to find a new ruler.”

“You're serious?”

“Kirkwall was my home for over a decade and I would enjoy the chance to help rebuild the Chantry there. The harbor brings in more life and growth than Starkhaven is comfortable with. The Shrine of Sacred Ashes could use quiet help rebuilding after that group of dragon-worshipping heretics. I'm sure there are other places we could go to serve the Maker. _Come with me_ wherever the Maker calls us.”

Jayne's kiss was sweet. “It doesn't have to be spiritual. Honestly, listening to your voice is enough to inspire me to the most unchaste thoughts in Council.”

Chaste would not describe our relations when Jayne convinced me to rest before the delayed service.

Today was the anniversary, one year had passed since the Grand Cleric Elthina's death. I now ruled Starkhaven, as I both wanted and dreaded in a time of chaos and war. I wanted to be a worthy heir to her and my grandfather.

I prayed that Andraste would guide _me._


	23. Blowing Into Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Invading Kirkwall was not what Hawke wanted to do when she grew up...

_** Denerim,  ** ** Arlessa ** ** Amaranthine ** ** 's ** ** state dining room ** _

_** Hawke ** _

Fergus and his officers left the stuffy room for their last round of recruiting and preparations. Earlier I had another tooth-grinding meeting with a disapproving Sister whose name I missed. I had a headache just behind my forehead after a day of meeting powerful Fereldans with their subtle moral superiority mixed with not always-hidden anger and agendas.

Not that headaches were unknown to me. Carver had been good at causing them. Gamlen surpassed Carver's sullens, with far less charm. Athenril and her people enjoyed returning slights to us that any shemlen gave _them_. Those days of slights and smuggling negotiations left me with pounding headaches that only Bethany could heal without a barrel of the piss at the _Hanged Man_. Some headaches came from opponents, idiots, and the outright evil. Many headaches came from the bickering between my friends, when none of them were completely wrong. I thought I loved Varric the most because he had no ongoing argument with _anyone_ else.

This was why I was friendly with only a handful of nobles here in Denerim: I couldn't completely trust anyone here. Well, anyone outside a very short list of a few Wardens. After Janeka and Larius and their madness this spring, other Wardens' oaths about vigilance and victory said nothing about sanity or why they made those sacrifices. 

I was very aware of why I did anything that was questionable.  Some might think I was master of some evil conspiracy, but the Maker knew I was more often a dupe of some Patrice or Jarvis because of my good  intentions. Many might never accept that, and  I had no idea how many were planning to stab us if we won. 

Cousland assigned some of her own Silverites to guard us when we went out, and that made everything more public than I liked. I didn't know how Cousland could put up with it. At least that would end when we took ship at the dawn tide. 

Anders wanted to review the healing supplies and training of any healers, mage, pirate, or mercenary. I was sure they'd trade recipes far beyond my understanding of bandaging. I was much better at taking enemies apart.

My husband looked very fine in his new armor, less grim and fatalistic, so I mooned over his new armor as he worked. I interrupted his list-making with a kiss. “Anders, we have to talk.”

He stiffened at my tone, his smile a little sad. “It can't be anything fun, or you wouldn't be softening me up first.”

Tucking my head against his neck, I enjoyed how his hands slid around me. His armor had crimson piping in places matching his gem... and my Champion armor. _How sweet._ I'd tease him later. “The Qun explosive recipe. Should it be kept secret? We can't make any, we don't have time to go dragon hunting. It would be so _right_ to use it on them in Kirkwall. I don't want the Chantry to get it, but I really don't know who I'd trust it with. We might need it someday.”

Anders paused, with the attenuated silence when he and Justice argued. Then his lips ghosted over my forehead. “I agree, love. Justice has more faith in the Warden than I do in Jean-Maurice and Janeka. Possibly dwarves less greedy than Jarvis might be safe. They already have a form of explosives and have not shared. And the ones born in the Deep Roads resist magic.”

That idea was a relief. Deep Roads and darkspawn were better than excess innocents. “So, someone like Sigrun or even that drunken friend of yours.”

That made my husband laugh. “Poor Oghren, how can the Pride of Orzammar swallow that insult, Hawke?”

I looked up at him, smirking. “Hey, I was saying a drunkard was a _better_ candidate. He doesn't give a damn about the Chant and he loves killing darkspawn.”

Anders sighed. “Even if I don't share the recipe and it is lost, it will escape from their control again. I can't think of anyone I trust enough with that kind of power. I don't trust myself, love. If I went to war against the Templars, I _know_ I would use it again. Despite any innocents. I hate that.”

Putting both arms around his neck, I told him, “Justice wasn't the only one corrupted, honey. As long as we work together on these decisions, I accept the consequences with you.”

Anders' eyes glistened and he smiled wistfully. “It is the stuff of dire temptation, Dera. Wrath, pride... maybe not lust unless watching explosions ever becomes an entertainment. I think Justice may be convinced it was sloth, looking for easy and quick solutions instead of just ones.” 

Remembering the Qunari bound their mages with needles and chains, I shuddered. “The Qun fall to pride and sloth too. If they had any patience, they could get the allegiance of much of Lowtown and most of Darktown without any bloodshed. They really don't trust their own beliefs.” I didn't trust their denial of free choice, almost slavery, or their lack of respect for mages when they insisted that all other workers should be respected. And while I had issues with the Chantry, Andraste was someone I very much respected.

I was not going to allow Anders to martyr himself, either. Even if we were returning to the location of his biggest sin. He _could_ fight off the influence of Corypheus when he wasn't caught up in mage rights. I hoped the influence of the Magister on Kirkwall was weakened with the emptying of the prison. I prayed four months might be enough for some change.

Anders pulled my hands down and kissed them. “We would be locked into what they decided the Qun needed. Love, a mage's family would exist no more than if the Chantry had their way. They would _never_ put you on the path for Arishok or Sten.” He swallowed. “I know how to detonate their explosive from a distance. I believe their dreadnaughts use it for huge missiles against Tevinter fortresses.”

Kirkwall wasn't exactly a fortress, though Hightown could hold out longer against attack and uprisings longer. I tried to estimate the distance from Lowtown harbor up to the more defensible areas. Too much of Lowtown was in range of ships' weapons. 

I had no idea what locations they thought more important. Last time they boiled out of that open warehouse and up into Hightown. I had no idea where the ships would be anchored. They could be out in the harbor to prevent counter attack or docked to allow quick retreat.

Where would the ships be placed? I didn't really think they planned retreat, I didn't think they believed in strategic retreat. I might pay to see a squad of theirs take on a high dragon.

“Love, you're awful quiet.”

I had to giggle at the image of the horns. “Would the Arishok and a high dragon have tea? Or would Flemeth confuse him with cryptic statements about his future as he tries to kill her?”

He snorted. “Here I hoped you were planning strategy.”

I hugged him. “Can't decide until we get there. I'd like to destroy their retreat. Taking out reserves would be good too. They probably have already taken Lowtown. I'm only worried that they might use exlosions in Darktown to undermine Hightown if it's holding out. Too many possibilities, too little news.”

“Stop gnawing on it, love.”

“This'd be so much faster if I could just kill their general.” I was having trouble slowing my thoughts, despite lacking news

After a moment he prompted me. “Love?”

“Which ship will we take?”

“Isabela's.”

I nodded, as I thought the same. “But what about the Fereldan forces and Fergus? I will need a diplomatic reason to not select a Teyrn, it seems so strange to worry about a Teyrn's opinion. Teyrn Cousland is the queen's representative.”

Anders hugged me tight. “Love, you're the Champion, Viscount if we win. He can only advise you.”

Queen Anora had traded him like ill fitting boots, though there was a hint that she'd been annoyed with him. “You're my chief adviser, honey.”

“Power behind the throne? I'll take it and keep you... very happy.” He smirked with some welcome heat underneath.

We both knew that wasn't really a joke, Dumar had been a sad man. “I might be unhappy a lot.”

“I _will_ help, love.”

“Can't do it without you.” _I wanted to stay_ _here all afternoon_ _._ “I have to find Fergus.”

“Maybe I should be jealous of my wife seeking another man so soon after our wedding?” Anders spoke into my ear, warmth in the cooling room as he leaned closer. 

“Don't be silly. You can come too.” _I didn't want any jealousy games_ _again_ _._

The smile in his voice was clear. “Love, that _could_ be a lot of fun, but he would not be my first choice. I don't think Fergus is that open minded.”

His brooch had a magical hum as I unclasped it without looking at it. I warned him. “ _I'm_ not that open-minded, honey.” 

“You're perfect, Hawke. Let's scandalize the Teyrn.” Mischief and desire in his voice made me giggle as he worked at the new and stiffer straps and buckles for my armor.

I won, I reached his bare skin first. I didn't think Anders noticed as I pushed things out of our way. A knocking at the door made us hurry, but no one tried to enter. I tried not to think about this kind of hurry for the rest of my life. The Deep Roads were starting to look better.

When we found Fergus, he had piles of cloth on the table. It was only when we got closer that I saw that they were tabards and sashes with a simple version of the Amell shield painted on them. The woman just leaving put hers on her arm as she left.

That made it more real.

Men and women were going to Kirkwall to fight... under my banner. Fight and maybe die.

I was used to fighting, used to the chance of dying. I even almost got used to the chance that my friends could die on whatever mission was important right then.

But bringing hundreds of strangers to fight in my battles was almost inconceivable. 

It was happening.

Anders gripped my hand, and I tried to smile at him through my fresh nerves.

_ \-- x -- _

Fergus and I met with the other Captains in the evening. Their forces were all warriors and rogues. I would have felt better with some more mages than Anders, and we explained sarabas and their danger. I had to hope some mages escaped the Qunari and would join us. Justice's blue flickered in Anders' eyes sometimes as we studied the maps, but I doubted there was any conflict.

Fergus wasn't surprised at my plans for which ship to take point; he was a little relieved. “I'm more experienced at land battles. My men are better used at holding and defending. We have almost no experience in fighting Qunari.”

“I may try a scout run inside the city to find remaining resistance.” _Find Bethany and Aveline..._

“First thing, kitten, is to get that chain down and your ships in the harbor. Should be easier if they're off scaring the nobles again.” As I expected, Isabela was gleefully wearing a huge and ornate Orlesian hat.

“They're past that by now,” Anders said with a little of Justice's rumble. “The only question is how far? Will most have laid low, joined up happily, pretended to convert, or had that damn poison forced on them? We don't know how quickly parts of Rivain converted when they were taken ages ago.”

Isabela almost hid a shudder.

I looked at the map of the Marches, wishing that the Dalish were more whole. I didn't think the Qun was tempting to the Dalish, with the way they held their Creators. They could flee the Qunari better than farmers, but that wouldn't work forever. Would that First from the Dale Lands sent here with halla see the danger or care? 

We _needed_ mages. A hidden thread of even Chantry histories said that the Circles were what stopped their advance. Tevinter alone could stymie them.

Fergus said. “I will wait for signals that we have better reconnaissance... Captains, Hawke.” 

With a grin, Isabela spoke as soon as Fergus stood. “We'll set aside a bilge for you two. Just so you're comfortable.”

When Fergus started to react, I said, “That's her joke. We were being smuggled out by a Qunari scout ship and didn't know it when she found us.”

The Fereldan Teyrn wasn't happy, but he shook his head and left.

“He is no _fun_ , Hawke. Little sister Warden was a lot more fun even during the Blight than her brother is.”

I looked after the noble. “She didn't have to deal with this while fighting darkspawn.”

Our ships left port at dawn. 

I didn't sleep well in the cabin, because we had only two strategic paths right now. One used if the harbor chain was never raised. Our little pirate fleet would engage the three mostly empty Qunari ships and before making landfall at the Gallows. Then we'd land on the mainland with Fergus' forces. We'd gather forces who didn't want to be Qunari, those who liked their vices and mercantile lives. I hoped Varric was still free. Then we'd have to fight our way up to where they wanted to lord over the city. I was sure the leader will have moved into the Viscount's palace, the Arishok never lacked for noble arrogance. I was not eagerly anticipating another battle like the last, but I doubted it could be much less. This would be bloody, as they planned for this invasion and had time to consolidate for days.

The other plan was to sneak into the city, make some trouble and drop the chain. Then we'd fight and backtrack, taking advantage of the lack of open areas where their numbers would count for less, finding and rescuing people and not getting caught until we whittled them down. Then call in Fergus and open a second front.

A hundred warriors could pass through one of the hidden ways into Hightown. We needed that just to open the gates. Not that I liked the idea of hundreds of strangers tromping through my home, but that was stupid.

Too much depended on what we found when we got there. I paced the cabin as hours passed until Anders practically sat on me. When I wasn't fretting about how slow we seemed to be going, Anders stayed close. Paws and Mew were used to ships now, and I had just about convinced Anders to leave Ser Mew on board. 

The hours crawled, and Isabela's crew was much more cheerful than us landlubbers. We were just tense and I ordered any brawls would result in the participants making bandages and salves. 

We were favored by the wind and sighted those islands at the mouth of the Kirkwall canal the next day

Isabela came down from the crow's nest. I missed climbing up, but my armor was heavier than I wanted to trust to the rigging due to my nerves.

She was grinning and excited. “Balls, Hawke. That chain's up. There's some fat merchant ships in sight that probably thought to make port today.” 

I could hear the regret for lost looting in her voice. “Not our problem right now. Any ships that might be Qunari guarding the canal entrance?” There could be a dozen ships hiding nearby, for all I knew.

Isabela looked at the horizon. “Some might, but not with the flags I've seen so far.”

“Well, we'll need to find another way in. Can you set us down to the east of the city?” I hoped the trail to the Warden prison could be found without going through the city first.

A cove not in sight of the city wall and a single boat took us to shore. The Captains, Fergus, and Zevran joined us briefly. They'd warn off traders and wait for the chain to drop.

Isabela came with us as we worked around the wall. Paws barked when we found the trail, and we reached the wall just before dark. Even before we reached it, I could smell that there'd been burning inside the wall.

I looked at Anders and Isabela. Neither of them were making jokes. “Paws, if you smell any of our friends, take us there.”

He ruffed quietly and moved toward the wall and came back. He had a scent and we followed him through.

The lower parts of Kirkwall had less stone in places, but they didn't look old or dilapidated any more. Parts looked more like ruins. Warehouses, tenements, and factories had been smashed and burnt, and it wasn't the rank smell of the forges. I didn't see much movement and the fires were mostly out as the sun set rapidly. I didn't see much intact, though some gaps in the ash and debris said there'd been looters.

I looked at Anders. This part of Lowtown was nearly as dark as Darktown because of the shadows from the mountains and higher parts of the city. “You ready to go public, Anders? We want to find people who haven't converted to dronehood of a hive, easier to let them find us.”

He lit up his staff until we were in a pool of blue light. “Ready, love.”

Paws led off and moved towards the closest stair, stepping carefully among the debris. 


	24. Into the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and her forces reach Kirkwall, a Kirkwall much worse than it had been in spring. Will Kirkwall accept her again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, this tale is not orphaned. I was distracted by writing original fiction for pay, and a hospital stay. More adventure and angst to come!

_** Kirkwall Lowtown, by ruined warehouses ** _

_** \- Anders ** _

Once I enchanted Hawke's torch so she was the literal shining light in Kirkwall, I heard a snicker from Isabela.

“You really do light up the place with your Champion-ness, Hawke.” The pirate didn't seem bothered by it.

Hawke frowned. “Being seen is not our primary mission right now. Cut it _soon_ , mage.”

I forced down the pang at her coldness as we planned this. It still hurt a little.

We didn't hurry, and soon heard whispers from warehouses and alleys that weren't rats. At the next intersection, a couple of bodies had been left partly hidden by rubble.

That made Hawke sigh. “Wish Brother Vael was here.”

A wail rose from behind us. “Isn't _that monster_ why the Maker abandoned us in Kirkwall? Now the horn-heads destroy us!” An angry woman spoke from beyond the light.

That made me clench my teeth in anger and guilt.

Hawke's eyes flashed anger for an instant. “Do you really think the Maker would hurt children because of _any_ fool? How would the Qun erasing the Chant in Kirkwall _ever_ serve the Maker's purpose?”

Another bandaged man cried, “Malificar! He _murdered_ the Grand Cleric and _all_ the others!”

A pause came from the Champion, her voice ragged. “And he will face consequences for his actions. First, I need his power to retake Kirkwall.”

An older man's voice cackled. “Maybe he can _die_ to rescue the Grand Cleric.”

I only had an errant flash over whoever was Grand Cleric here now, despite the one in Denerim.

Hawke's voice hardened. “I will need every fighter, blades or spells, to free the city and defeat their general. Help, or get out of the way.”

The clearing was silent, though I could hear Isabela's smirk. I bit my lip to stay silent.

Another voice piped up. “They came back, Trine.”

Trine touched his bandage. “They can't bring back my sister, we got nothing to burn.”

“I will do the best I can. After will be sorted out with Chantry approval. Is that enough for now?” Hawke's face was a mask as Paws stepped closer to her.

The Lowtown survivors moved out of sight and Hawke touched my arm before moving on.

We crossed about half the distance trough the Lowtown ruins, some from buildings crushed by huge metal caskets, one of which had not fully exploded. Poor humans and elves were digging in and around the metal crushed wood.

I ran forward, afraid. “Stop! Get away from that! It could explode anytime a Qunari mage wants!”

No one seemed to be listening.

Isabela made a piercing whistle, and all stopped. “Stubble it, folks. That's what destroyed the Chantry, isn't it?”

I could only nod, I didn't know the amount they used in their attacks but we could already be too close.

“That settles it,” Hawke agreed. “Move away, people. How far?”

That made me shrug. “I don't know. I doubt it's as powerful as at the Chantry, but there's less stone so it could destroy a bigger area.”

Hawke watched as scavengers moved away reluctantly. “Is there a way to make it safe?”

I hadn't thought about it, all my plans had been to assemble it and make it blow. “Let me think, love.” Separate the chemicals... prevent ignition. Those were all that came to me from my experiments. The sela petrae made it burn hotter with a more violent explosion. Drakestone wasn't quite as important in the notes, but removing that would have taken years for me to understand.

Maybe that would have been a better idea.

Hawke coughed.

“Get it wet, really wet and that should stop it. But if it dried... it could still be dangerous, Dilute it in the sea, most of it is charcoal and crystallized shit.”

“What about right _now_ , mage? At least until we get it wet enough.” Hawke looked at the case with loathing and wariness.

I cast cold spells on it, ending my other spells. “Really cold conditions should prevent ignition while frozen. But I can't stay for sure how cold.”

Hawke looked around at the refugees. “You people want to survive this? You can help in two ways. Help us find a wagon to move this Qunari egg, and you can spread what it is so other people know what to do.”

A scavenger approached Isabela and I froze the egg again, noting fracture lines that hadn't broken.

Hawk and Isabela left, and murmurs reached me. Threats were audible, but no one approached as I kept freezing the egg. Justice was restive but how wasn't clear. I was awaiting a dagger in my back again, a little ticked at Hawke, though I knew I would have to stand without her at some time.

I felt so alone, people nearby arguing and snarling.

It seemed like forever, but wasn't when they returned with a damaged wagon, held together with wire in places. Two strangers were helping, and Hawke found some boards that they used to slide the egg up. The ice helped with sliding, but made them swear when it made to slide off and landed on Hawke's arm wrong.

A Qunari squad discovered us, made of elves and Tal-Vashoth. At least they had no Saarebas or we would have died from the egg. The small squad didn't last long. The last scavengers scattered and only some returned after we'd won.

One Lowtowner asked Hawke as they dragged the egg toward the harbor, “Are you staying, Champion?”

“I want to, I hoped... that leaving would prevent an immediate March on Kirkwall.”

“ _It came anyway.”_

The accusation made Hawke wince. “Then we will _**have**_ to work together, even with people we don't like or trust.”

I could almost feel the glares in my direction.

Hawk's group dragged the cart through the dark streets and rubble onto the harbor's stone ramp. Salty ice rimed the egg as they pushed it deeper into the water.

“Is it safe?” Hawke mopped sweat off her forehead.

I wasn't completely sure. “As safe as it can be without deeper water. Better once it dilutes.”

Hawke and Isabela sent our helpers off, with warnings and promises. 

I had to hold my tongue as they talked. To strangers, I was merely on parole. I had taken to rubbing my earring, like Hawke wore, to stay quiet. I felt colder than the melting ice, despite the late summer weather,

Isabela was quieter than I was used to in combat. The ranked hat seemed to mean more than I understood. There was little quipping among us. I couldn't like how we had gotten as quiet as many Grey Warden groups.

We didn't run into any others before we reached areas further from the Qunari ships. These streets were still were lit, and we watched for Qunari. Then we went into Darktown's concealed doors instead of Hightown stairs, with Hawke leading the way. 

Darktown was crowded, and something stinking hit me in the head. “Scourge! Malificar! Abomination!”

I had to grit my teeth, but only wiped it off.

Hawke appeared next to the sooty man in the crowd and gripped his arm. “Is there something you want to say openly and more usefully?”

“You're a blood puppet, you don't care or you wouldn't have left us like this!” He'd tensed, the whites of his eyes clear as he pulled a damaged dagger out, ready to stab her.

A few murmurs agreed.

Hawke set her jaw. “I care, but I could not stay without needless killing.”

“Like he killed? _That was needed, Champion_?” A middle aged woman wore dirty, but once expensive clothing.

“Nothing is simple. I'm here _now_ to take back Kirkwall from the Qunari and keep it free.” 

Shouting and talk came from all around us. “He should be made Tranquil!” “Prove he isn't using blood magic on you!” “The Knight Commander would have stopped the hornheads!” “Damn knife-ears! Traitors!” What good is stopping them if you leave again?” “They say we can get our children out of the choke-damp!” “Their powder crashed a stone warehouse on my woman!” “Void take the heathens!” They were worked up and slowing us with their complaints.

Hawke looked frustrated as she spotted still dark sky out one air shaft. She didn't speak very loudly to Paws. “Speak 'til they quiet.”

His deep barks cut through the crowd until they settled.

“I will stay until I'm not wanted, but my _husband_ is part of the package.” When she said that, a shocked hush spread. “I'm not Meredith or Dumar or Qun to be _kept_ in jesses by outsiders' demands. Allies and friends, but no bowing down to outsiders to decide _Kirkwall's_ fate.”

That got a few murmurs of agreement before she spoke again. “I am not a bloodslave, though I... _we_ have fought them many times. Killing him is a waste if he is an ally.”

Most looked confused, but she didn't offer to prove it. 

I swallowed. I could see how ugly this could get, and these were desperate and scared refugees of Kirkwall, not those of Ferelden I'd spent so much time healing.

“That's convenient, but no proof!” The belligerent voice was anonymous in the crowd.

Hawke glared in that direction, but too many murmured approval, even if they weren't as angry.

She met my eyes, and I saw pain and apology there.

We nodded and I gripped my staff. 

Hawke's voice was stark. “A demon would protect his shell, strike back if attacked, right?”

I felt Hawke's warmth suddenly behind me even as she cut through my shoulder, the tip of the Bassrath-Kata poking through as the pain spread through my body. I closed my eyes, wondering how I ever could have thought that this in earnest after the Chantry, would have been easier than living.

My staff hit the ground as I calmed Justice.

“A demon's skin would have broken loose and tried to slaughter me and everyone nearby. He's fought for Kirkwall and the people down here in Darktown how many times already.” Her voice choked, she let go of me and helped me upright again. “I'm sorry, Anders.” 

I took a deep breath before speaking. “She believed I was better than I appeared, that I could be rescued, like many others here in Kirkwall. I was cured by the Urn of Sacred Ashes.” I healed myself, trying for style.

Isabela snickered. The others chattered.

An older woman asked, “What are you planning, Champion?”

“What else? Send them back to Pol Valen. Until they get the message that Kirkwall is not for them to invade. Can you see me as a farmer or herder in their ordering? My family, my faith, and my husband, are important to me, just as yours is to you. They cannot erase those things because they are inconvenient. They make mistakes. Their philosophy is not a guarantee of fairness to anyone. Their promises sound tempting to desperate people here in Darktown or the Alienage, but taking our choices, our faith, and our families are too much.” 

“Not _much_ of a plan...”

“I just got back, and I can't stay long here. Being Champion doesn't give me a standing army or the ability to fly like a dragon. There will be fighting, but with the Maker's blessing, Kirkwall and _**all**_ its people will be free to choose their own futures instead of a long dead philosopher.”

“Kill the hornheads!”

“Let's get one thing right, we're fighting so people can choose their _own_ futures. If someone wants to follow the Qun peacefully without trying to impose it on others, they can work honorably or earn passage to Pol Valen. It is when they want to decide how _you_ live that they must be stopped. This is the line. Where do you stand?”

I wanted to grin. The same argument should apply to the Chant and mages, but Qunari were doing what they feared.

Then came requests and pleas, and some even came forward for healing from me, looking very frightened. I knew some places for cleaner water and warmer tunnels than this near the Lowtown entrance. I wanted to help more, but Isabela nudged us forward again.

I turned to move to my clinic, but Hawke shook her head. 

“Later, Anders. Our mission first. Some places after we have allies.”

“Don't I count with you lovebirds?” Isabela was combing her hat back into neatness yet again. “I need an assistant to keep _this_ thing commanding.”

“You don't need it,” Hawke said. “I want to find Varric and Aveline, too.”

Isabela bowed before fading away.

We moved along Darktown, searching for the chain mechanism. It should be under control of the portmaster or city guard, but probably wasn't. Both Hawke and the Rivaini got frustrated as we searched. We moved through older tunnels near the channel, lower than my clinic. They'd decided that the access had to be unsealed but guarded. It should be isolated from Darktown squatters, or everyone would know where it was.

When we found it after more hours than I wanted to count, the final tunnel was almost a road, well lit and had at least a score of Qunari visible. They weren't clustered and had cover from some of my spells.

Dera looked worried about that cover and only three of us, four if you counted Paws. “Can we do it?”

“ _ **Barring reinforcements, yes.” I wasn't as sure about the lingering darkness or darkspawn in the distance.**_

“Chuckles here is right. All blades, no staves.” Isabela had one of Fergus' sashes around her thigh.

Hawke looked at me and saw I wore one on my arm too, more for others to see my loyalty. “We can take them, love.”

She flushed with either awe or nerves.

“Love, I'd prefer more, But we will be fine.”

Without any more words, we attacked. There were more than were visible at first and we retreated back towards the rest of Darktown where we could limit the number attacking us at once. 

Isabela and Hawke took turns keeping the axmen off me. We had fallen back to the chain overlook and elemental spells flowed freely when I didn't need to heal them. It almost felt like the Deep Roads, but without Varric's humming.


	25. Siege Harder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Qunari have taken Kirkwall, but it doesn't sit easily on everyone.

_** Kirkwall Lowtown, the Hanged Man ** _

_** \- Varric Tethras ** _

I wrote '5/Matrinalis' in my account books in the strange quiet of the Hanged Man. I didn't think the changes in Kirkwall were very august; reverence and majesty were not granted to non-believers. The Qun didn't have a Viscount to make an example this time, making surrender. After they beat down much of Aveline's guard, resistance mostly died down in only three days. Many of the guards turned their shield covers right away. Some must have escaped or been killed in the bombardment as they weren't paraded as prisoners and forcibly converted.

The new Grand Cleric Chardjia brought in late in the winter, strong-willed and militant, didn't manage to escape the Qun. In her tattered robes she was left out in the Viscount's square this time, bruised and bloodied from struggling to clean up the latest battle damage. Anyone could just go up and talk to her as she worked. Chardjia was no longer the brightest knife in _**any**_ drawer.

The stuff of a good tragedy if I didn't like how the story was trending. They'd been here before.

My door slammed open in the too silent building, the Princess already frantic. “Why haven't you found me _a maid_ and a cook yet, Tethras? And why haven't you found the nugget's da, either?”

_Thus ended the blessed and too-short season of serenity…_ Guards trailed behind her, their faces as blank as the legendary golems from old blood and forges.

“Princess, you've _heard_ the fighting. Humore and Dumore were right to get you out of Hightown when they did. The Qunari _do not_ like nobles, especially idle ones. They _beheaded_ the last ruler here and we don't have the Champion this time to stop them. You don't toe their line and they'll make you as dull as the most cracked of dusters. Do I have to take you to see the ones they 'converted' again?” 

She kept getting more reckless as the weeks passed, and I was glad her guards took the brunt of it. I had enough to do with reining my people back until the port opened again.

If it opened again.

“Tethras! I can't wait any longer for your underhanded deals and shady friends...” Her voice got louder and shriller as she got rolling in her rant, but she hiccuped through her whole body and glared at me.

“Look, Lady Harrowmount, if you want to go out and start demanding anything from the Qunari leader, _I'm staying here._ You haven't earned his respect and he's gonna treat you like a duster.” I'd heard from my people that some other dwarves from Hightown had disappeared, the ones with the worst reps.

“You look, Tethras! I **cannot** keep waiting. If I stay on the surface for much longer… I was supposed to be back home before now.” A wave of anger and frustration crossed her face. “Marry me, Tethras. I'll bribe enough to say you were there and you have a decent House even if your father was a fool. That can be fixed.”

I'd expected this desperate ploy for a while.

I put the back of my palm to my forehead as if in shock. “ _This is so sudden._ I hadn't _dreamed_ that you felt like that about me...” I considered batting my eyes at her, but managed to resist laughing. This was the stuff of many a bestselling romance, but I didn't want a political alliance. “I don't think so, Princess. I've never missed Orzammar or the Stone.”

And more importantly, I wanted something more like Aveline and her Donnic. All the Hawkes had too much drama.

Her mutterings about my future as part of the Stone confirmed the decision. Finally she took a breath and resumed her glare. “It's been what, six weeks on the surface? You said they were in a lost branch of the Deep Roads. I'm not afraid of the Deep Roads, I'm no Surfacer like you.”

That made me laugh. “And _that_ I'm glad for, Princess! I like the sunshine and storms crashing against the stone of Kirkwall. I've fought darkspawn and lost legends down there in the Deep, and seen too many bodies of fools who thought they could get by without the Legion of the Dead or Grey Wardens. This city isn't like the partly tamed areas around Orzammar, but a wilder place that chews up the stupid and the greedy. Lyrium below here doesn't sing in blue danger. It shrieks in madness as red as blood, red as insanity.”

She had that slightly glazed look, that my words have taken effect. 

Lady Harrowmount shook her head and glared at me. “I don't _care_ what your excuses are. You will find me that Warden, or you will find me a da for my nugget… now!”

The pieces fit. I didn't know if there was any Shaper or even fellow dwarva healer remaining to help her. “Get her back to her room. Princess, I'll get a healer for you.”

“ _You stupid nug-shit!_ The only healer I saw among the other _surfacers,_ I wouldn't trust with a litter of nugs.”

“Calm down, Princess. It'll be much easier to spread the story that you found your Warden yesterday after this. In this mess, who's going to argue? You just let Uncle Tethras get someone in here who knows what they're doing...” I'd send agents to the dwarva neighborhood, and a large promise to Lirene to fetch someone from the oldest clinic in the city, despite the risk.

I doubted those dwarva hiding in Hightown wanted to come out, especially for someone in Lowtown. I wasn't surprised, King Bhelan's approval still counted for some of them. Daisy could have helped with herbs and soothing chatter, but she hadn't returned to Kirkwall. Human healers didn't care about thaig politics.

Gerdel did better and brought back a tart older woman who negotiated her fee during the Princess' pauses, while she had the advantage over the Princess' frugality. 

I didn't help with the negotiating, it wasn't my funds. Nor was I about to hang around with Humore and Dumore to watch over the Princess while she swore at the absent Arkun. 

She was loud enough to carry to the tap room where I got reports back from most of my people. The above-board makers were reporting the first shortages, but I thought it was more worry about food. Kirkwall lived off trade, and _needed_ the food that passed though its warehouses and harbor before winter. Even if the harbor opened in a month, too much food would have bypassed the city during the harvest.

I didn't want to leave with only what I could carry, but this winter would be hard, harder than the damage last fall. Time was running out before I had to decide. After checking on a frazzled looking Humore, Bianca and I left the Hanged Man to do a quiet walk around Kirkwall to check on my missing people. Near the stairs to Hightown, some of the stairs had taken heavy damage from the intermittent fighting, while others looked intact outside of some dark stains.

The Alienage was just around the corner. The gate was gone, the bolts ripped or broken out of the stone. Despite that, the elves in the clearing around their tree did not all look happy. A female elf argued with their storyteller, and with the other elves ranged around the two of them, it didn't take a genius to see this could explode into a brawl.

I settled Bianca into position, ready for trouble. Mehra's room was only a little further in.

She didn't answer my knock. I hadn't gotten a report from my courier and informant since before this started. No one seemed to be watching, so I unlocked the door and slipped in. I remembered how happy she was that she finally had some privacy, and her room was still nearly bare. A few items were strewn around, but I couldn't tell if she fled, was killed, or converted. Mehra didn't leave a journal or shopping list either.

How many in Kirkwall last week were soon to be nameless bodies in some street? How did the Qun honor their dead?

I didn't want to be in _that_ group, but I suspected I would be marked if they became aware of how much business I had in this 'corrupt and worthless pit of vice.' I should be safe for a time. I didn't look wealthy, with a mansion and servants. I'm not sure how they viewed my writing. My link to the Champion was known, but would they 'reeducate' me for that?

Maybe not.

They respected her.

At least they did once, she still had that nice dagger they gave her. I don't know what they expected her to do after Blondie did his grand stupid... convert? No, no one would believe that. Looks like they got what they wanted: a weaker city.

When I exited the apartment building, the scene with the elves had changed, and not for the better. “Where are they? _Someone_ has to know.”

This elf had her foot braced on the hahren's shoulder, and her pose clicked as much as her arrogance. It was that Qunari elf we ran into a few years back, parts of that one that left Hawke still pissed every time it came up.

I didn't think she had met me, but I took an extra helping of casual and walked away, humming. I could scurry back and hide, but I wanted to see what was happening with my own eyes.

My tour became more subtle. Not all Qunari were hornheads and I didn't want to draw attention to myself. A stop at a small pawn shop that was open and I bought a rucksack for my coat and a worn tunic. Leaving Bianca was not an option, but I would appear less distinctive as I checked out empty and looted Hightown mansions, and the clinic and shelter watched over by a mix of Qun and locals. Lowtown areas further from the harbor looked almost normal, just way too quiet and lacking any children on the streets.

I stopped at the top of the stairs that went down into the harbor. I could easily see rubble and burnt out buildings. There were a few people moving around, they might have been looting as much as trying to work. I checked warehouses I had an interest in. Some were intact with squatters who'd lost their homes. Made deals with the leaders to protect remaining goods, others already had guards who were very glad to see me.

Spotted th at former Templar,  Sampson, in scavenged armor that hadn't been cleaned or repaired. He was breaking into a clearly Orlesian business,  egging some other beggars. Hawke had asked Cullen to give him another chance, but I hadn't heard anything about him lately while the Captain was trying to rebuild.

I'd just  _ love _ to see his records, but this would not be the time for a visit the strangely-still-Captain. The Gallows had unknown ships anchored, bristling with ballistae.

That meant I was _well_ within their range if they decided to resume their attacks.

The distance back to the Hanged Man seemed to take forever, but when I walked back in I called a snarky order for the house 'best.' Nothing ever tasted so sweet.

Still, I heard Princess upstairs and I scanned the common room, wondering which were spying on me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


	26. Into the Breeches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke's group moves further into occupied Kirkwall to find her sister and make some decisive action.

_** Kirkwall Darktown – Near the Harbor Chain Mechanism ** _

_** -Hawke ** _

The press of the Qun fighters was getting harder to slow. Isabela and I needed more space for dodging than this tunnel, but we had to hold them back and away from Anders. Paws was intercepting most who got close to him, but even so, Anders bled from a head wound that I didn't see happen. Paws made some of our attackers flinch from his howls after he'd hamstrung some and torn throats. Marchers weren't used to any mabari who wasn't feral and untrained. Paws had gotten as much if not more training as Aveline's men.

Despite this, we were very slowly being pushed back and away from the harbor-chain. I wasn't sure they would run out of fighters before we'd have to retreat. Next time would be harder than this and I began to worry.

“Love, _Wardens!_ ”

The hornhead hurler only twitched his attention a little at Anders' shout, enough that my blade didn't get an artery. It didn't matter as I heard massed Warden battle oaths like I hadn't heard since Ostagar.

Along with shouting of Tevinter oaths, by Fenris.

That was a relief for more than just the reinforcements. I didn't hear Bethany or her spells as the battle turned rapidly in our favor. I looked at the others in Warden gear. I was pretty sure the humans and dwarves were all Wardens, but I didn't know them and I didn't think Anders did either. At least I knew Fenris.

Before I could catch my breath to speak, Isabela sprang over and shimmied into Fenris' arms. “Tats! It's been too long!” She reached down to poke the elf's side. “Sage...? No, bright magenta. I bet you get the latest silk colors from Orlais.”

Fenris' hug paused. “I haven't had time for that game in a long time. Whitish is about all I can manage on the road with any Hawke.”

The other Wardens seemed a little surprised at seeing that we didn't wear the blue and gray. I wasn't as sure how other Commanders would see that variance. I remembered Nathaniel's group didn't wear the blue and gray. 

Fenris disentangled himself from Isabela, “Hawke! What are you doing here?”

Anders spoke with more than a little irritation as he struggled to lower the seaweed decorated mass of chain links from the windlass. “We're lowering the chain. Now.”

“That keeps more Qunari ships away.” Fenris frowned too.

“It keeps _our_ forces away.” I went to help Anders. The cold chains needed to be lowered soon. “Where's Bethany?” 

Fenris marched over to put his strength to moving the mass, too. “She is fine, Qunari seem to be watching myself and human Wardens, perhaps for risk of rebellion. She was recovering from an earlier skirmish, and we stay hidden during the day.”

“Where?” The windlass was moving better and I saw the determination on both Anders and Fenris' faces that they wouldn't stop first and lose face. I left them to their habitual rivalry and checked the equipment.

“Smuggling tunnel from the Gallows.” The warrior measured his breath as he turned the pulley.

I smiled at Isabela and a silent Anders. “That's our next stop.”

The huge coil of chains wrapped around the winch got thinner as I watched, and it was mostly protected from the weather. Looking out a slit protecting the mechanism chamber, much of the chain had seaweed and maybe barnacles clinging to the chain. It had been out of the seawater long enough that the strands of seaweed were drying and shifting in the daytime breeze. We had to lower it, wedge it down, and hope it would be easy to repair after we won.

The chain slowly lowered back into the water, making a racket. I hammered a spike into the wooden frame and added several tar grenades to the blocked up mechanism, so that should slow down their repairs. It felt like hours until the chain was fully unrolled, but the light hadn't changed much.

I hoped we would be keeping them too busy soon to worry about the chain. It only had to be down until we controlled the harbor. “We need to move quickly. Our forces are due before sunset and we need to sink their ships so they can't stop our landings.”

“Scuttle,” Isabela added with an evil grin. “That will _make_ my day.”

“Hawke?” Fenris asked calmly. 

“Take the ships and Gallows, land our forces and take the leader in Hightown. Do you know how many they are?” _I was worried about their numbers. If they were over two thousand, we didn't have enough even_ _ **with**_ _fighting them in the smaller groups Kirkwall_ _demand_ _ed._

The other Warden said, “I think they have a thousand, maybe twelve hundred left. Not counting new converts, but they are likely untrained and not much of a threat.”

I could feel pity for whatever circumstances made elves from the Alienage want to become Qunari, where they lost everything that made them elves. Humans, I thought, converted more from bad luck or frustration like Saemus. That boy had more options that he wasted when he had the chance. “Let's get moving.”

The others led us through a slightly different route to the lyrium smuggling path. Anders knew those better than I and he didn't object. We descended into blackness and he took my hand. 

Fenris and Isabela were talking quietly and I heard Bethany's name. Isabela seemed both pleased and disappointed.

Anders provided dim light and we came upon some guards at the edge of an area where there seemed to be a bright natural light. We had to be closer to the Gallows island, because we'd gone deep enough under the harbor for my ears to pop.

The guards were a mix of refugees and a single Templar. I was worried about Anders keeping calm until I saw that he was almost smiling.

“Champion!” The Templar was an older-looking Keran. He didn't look quite as happy to see Anders and frowned on seeing the change in Anders' armor.

“I'm glad you're still alive, Keran. Heard about the Qunari infestation and came back.” I looked around and didn't see any other familiar faces. “Are you senior here? We brought some friends and need to find any who can help resist.”

The young man's face fell. “I am nearly the most senior here, even if I'm just _the_ senior trainee. They attacked the Gallows first, so I brought trainees and the younger mages down here. I don't know what happened to Acting-Commander Cullen. We heard rumors about the Grand Cleric and the Sisters. My orders were to protect the younger ones until the situation stabilized. But it hasn't.”

_**Void take it.**_ I'd hoped Templars could help. “That's fine. We'll be attacking the hornheads and their friends above, so they can't stop my lieutenant from landing.”

Keran looked uneasy when he flickered a look at Anders. I couldn't remember if I had seen him in the Gallows _that_ day.

_ Not again. _

“He's no more possessed by a demon than you are. He serves the Wardens and me now.” I didn't want to lie, but the real story was too long.

“He _serves_ her quite well from the sounds in their cabin, the dirty little mage.” Isabela chuckled.

Anders grinned but didn't deny it. 

“We need to get to the Gallows and take that. We must take their retreat ships away and use it as a toehold to take the city back.”

I heard a noise and felt more Tainted in the dimly lit cavern. When I looked, Anders felt it too. I saw another stranger Warden, along with a worn looking Donnic, Bethany, and Sigrun. My sister was standing there, looking a bit more worn than last time. “I've been looking everywhere for you, I thought you were dead.”

Bethany smiled after we hugged. “I should have known you would find your way here, Sister, but why?”

“My sister was behind enemy lines. The Qun are just as cruel to mages as the Templars. Kirkwall is not theirs to remake over the wishes of its people. Maybe it's been a mess, but it was _our_ mess.”

Sigrun spoke to Anders. “You're looking much more cheerful, Sparklefingers.”

“Being married does that for you. See, it even changed my armor!” Anders looked happy.

Donnic looked like this weak smile was his first in days.

Bethany hit my arm. “ _Aldera!_ You didn't even tell me you were going to marry! Mother would have been _so_ _happy_.”

“She would have cried.”

Bethany glared at me. “Of course she would have cried, you got married. She was afraid you'd never let yourself fall in love because of hiding me. Do you know how that made me feel? _And_ _I missed it!_ ”

“Sorry, Beth. It wasn't your fault. I had to be careful for Papa or even just for a beautiful younger sister. Staying hidden in Lothering and even back in Gwaren, winnowed out a lot bad choices for me, too. You and Carver were both my siblings to protect, and I would have been happy if Carver settled down with Peaches. We can celebrate later, if you want.” 

Sigrun and the others were enjoying the show.

Keran seemed amused by the fuss. “You seem... almost normal, Champion.”

“We are. There is absolutely no reason why a mage cannot be in a happy, normal family. A close family makes stronger bonds than prisons. Bethany didn't want to disappoint our parents. A child's errors aren't malice. Extra chores and a stern word from good parents do far more to train a child, much more than parents who hate and fear their own children. Children who have not yet been exposed to violence and hate, won't want icky blood and pain. How would it have hurt if Macha hated, feared, and wanted you dead when you joined the Templars? Now imagine you were ten instead of twenty and you don't understand why everyone suddenly fears you. ' _ **All men**_ _are the Work of our Maker's_ _h_ _ands,_ _f_ _rom the lowest slaves_ _t_ _o the highest kings._ _'_ Transfigurations one. There must be _some_ reason why the Maker keeps making more mages or why would He do it?”

Keran nodded at Anders. “ _He_ was wrong to do what he did, and that makes him a maleficar.” 

“What value is repentance? _'_ _The one who repents, who has faith,_ _u_ _nshaken by the darkness of the world, shall know true peace_ _'_ _._ Transfigurations ten. What does a madness spell mean if it infected Kirkwall over and over through the ages by the one who invaded the Golden City? Can one merit forgiveness for blood magic spells cast on him by a demon during the Blight?” I saw he looked doubtful, and he should, as blood magic was used on him. “Would it make any difference if we were told by a Grand Cleric to free Kirkwall from the Qunari or die trying?”

“I believe in the Sword of Mercy, Champion, and have faced demons and abominations and mages I thought wanted a better way but lied. I do not know, and that is why I still remain a trainee.” He looked older than the years that passed.

I shrugged. “You and Cullen are the virtuous side of Templars, to protect the people who cannot fight and not abuse your authority. Trouble is, there aren't enough of you. You are safe from us. Templars would be as long as they don't attack us or harm innocents.”

“I enjoy a good debate on the Chant, especially the earlier verses,” Anders said with a faint smile. “But we need to move on, love.”

Donnic met my eyes with a look of pleading, his face unshaven and clothing messy, showing his anxiety. 

I knew what he was asking without him saying it. “We'll find her. If not this mission, _we will find her_ in the city itself if she lives. We need a lot more information and I'm _hoping..._ ” I stopped there as I didn't want to raise too many hopes about Varric's information.

Or my fear that he died.

The Guard looked a little better and tried to straighten up.

We were a larger group now. Added to the three of us who started today were Bethany, Fenris, Donnic, Sigrun with her three Wardens, and Keran. Ten was as many as we had to fight a Meredith empowered by Corypheus' madness.

Corypheus was gone so _that_ was in our favor now.

The tunnels began to rise as we moved through former spider caverns. We passed the other sentry point and no one stopped us. I asked Sigrun who the quietest were for the vanguard. Keran and the junior Wardens should be able to withdraw if this went badly.

When we were near the Gallows end of the tunnel and the harbor scents got stronger, Anders held up a hand for a stop. He concentrated and smiled before he made gestures. Only Isabela and I knew this part of the plan, and I gave my approval.

Anders raised his staff with a look of concentration and slammed the base in the stone of the tunnel... once, twice, and on the third time we heard the sound of an explosion, muffled and the ground did not shake, much. Paws whined at the noise.

I found myself short of breath with remembering the flames and destruction of the massive Chantry towers and grabbed Anders' other hand. Bethany was trying to figure out what the significance of the ground-muffled noise was. Fenris took a moment to recognize it and snorted.

“What was that? Did you bring Dvorkin with you?” Sigrun asked.

With a certain grim satisfaction, Anders said, “I already know how to make their explosives work at a distance. Doubt they thought I'd live to come back to Kirkwall.”

_ Jarvis never had some purpose the Qunari could trust enough to use. _

“We need to attack now, Hawke. We cannot leave them time to recover.” Fenris moved ahead, his tattoos glowing. “Where do these tunnels end?”

Anders and Keran led and soon we burst out of the tunnel into the chaos of the side court of the Gallows entrance, filled with excited Qunari forces. I didn't see any Circle mages or Templars in the mass. 

Anders shouted, “For Hawke!” which echoed as he set off a huge firestorm through the courtyard and Bethany added her fire magic to surround them with the burn of a blast furnace.

More Qunari kept coming in from almost all directions after the whoosh of flames, the prison as well as the other court where the merchants had their tables and Templars lived. More than half were the kossuth, but the elves and humans didn't have much gear. Some even got in the way of the hornheads.

A very few, probably those who knew me on sight, did not fight. They ran away when they saw us. I didn't know if that was surrender or seeking allies, but anything to stretch this out or convince them to surrender.

But after fighting Meredith and her statues, this mixed group wasn't quite as intimidating. Isabela and Sigrun were keeping count, though Isabela was rating some of them as bed partners too. Not that the Qunari seemed to care in their battle fury.

There were only a very few sarabas and with a flare of blue light surrounding the closest, I couldn't get close enough to stab him. I _could_ keep his attention, and Anders smashed him on the head with his staff.

Keran looked at him in surprise and Anders grinned back.

When Anders met my eyes I suspected that he really liked confusing Templars. They probably should learn that it was just a well-honed skill and not something that needed lyrium.

I wondered for a second if I could learn it.

A squad of javelin hurlers started throwing from the platforms above us, now empty of the old statues. I leaped up to surround several clusters with smoke grenades to daze them for mages. When the closest group of warriors formed into a unit and closed, I was dodging as as often as I took one down.

I felt healing and tried to keep an eye on the others as I moved around. That was easier with the other Wardens. Fenris, Donnic, Isabela, and Keran were harder to keep track of in case they needed help.

The three human Wardens surrounded an especially big Vashoth warrior over in the gallery. The painted warrior looked almost as big as an ogre, even without the Taint. The smuggler used grenades while the warriors kept on the hornhead like they were trained mabari. Anders sent a bunch of rubble in that direction when the fight looked to move into the main area with us.

Next time I looked, my platform was clear, and  Bethany was be in g harried by some elves.  She looked  so  unhappy that they were attacking her, and wasn't using her stronger spells. I rushed over to scatter them.

I  felt sorry for wronged elves who'd been long abused, but that didn't give them the right to enact vengeance through the Qun. Nor did Qun beliefs supercede Kirkwall law,  or allow  them to  kill my sister.

Killing a handful of elves was less effort than Sebastian’s mercenaries last year.

The human Wardens returned to the open area and we exchanged nods before choosing new targets. Most of the remaining enemy were hornheads, and  I rolled under one giant Qunari  to trip him. He snarled something a t me as Paws ripped out his throat.

Fenris had another scarred one and I was going to go help him when Fenris snarled some Tevinter threat I hadn't heard before. 

“Bas-sevaras, corruption and death walking!” Then the giant hornhead said something I didn't understand.

“Hawke! This one is _mine!_ ” Fenris was as angry as ever I'd seen him.

The space around them was clearing, and Bethany watched them with a snarl of her own, energy pooling around her. Now I wasn't that sure which of us the warrior meant, but I watched for interruptions.

The Qunari had spaces for a brace of javelins, but the remaining huge blade still seemed huge compared to his height. It might have had a longer reach than my friend's sword.

The two seemed to be shifting and sliding in a slow circle, waiting for something.

So I helped finish the last stragglers and checked my group. 

I also wondered if I should collect their honor blades as a taunt for our victory or a diplomatic gesture of respect. _I would have to mention that to Fergus as a priority_ _as soon as I saw him_ _._ Anders was healing Isabela and Donnic. Few remained and I'd never seen them surrender in combat to humans, so soon there were none alive.

Fenris was grimly smug, and I could hear a scold in my sister's voice as she whispered to him.

That left us with in a bloody courtyard again. But this time, we didn't have to run away. I moved to the gate and looked out at the Gallows docks.

Anders came over to hold me with a sigh, before he healed me.

The blast had destroyed most of the boats and ships at the main dock. Hulls had been blown partway out of the water, charred pieces of wood were scattered among the boats, some smoldering. I wasn't sure if any were seaworthy, even enough to make the mainland. I saw bodies and pieces of bodies, but no dreadnaughts anywhere in the harbor.

Isabela gloated, “They _do_ like their big booms.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thanks to my beta reader who has been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.


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